
Ufie 

SEA BIRD’S 


QUEST 


ALFRED 

F. 

LOOMIS 








Class V*/,.. 'X 
Book .\ .. 

Copyright N°_SlS_ 

COPVKIGHT DEPOSIT. 


























THE 

SEA BIRD’S QUEST 











“Didn’t I say he had two hundred thousand dollars in gold ?” 





THE 

SEA BIRD’S QUEST 


BY 

ALFRED F. LOOMIS 

•% 

Author of “The Cruise of the Hippocampus,” etc. 


ILLUSTRATED BY 
C. M. RELYEA 




THE CENTURY CO. 
New York and London 
1923 






Copyright, 1923, by 
The Century Co. 



©C1A7117S0 

M/'1 r 

PRINTED IN U. S. A. 


SEP-7'23 



GEORGE TALMAN WISNER 






























LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


“Didn’t I say he had two hundred thousand dollars in 

gold?”. Frontispiece 

FACING 

PAGE 

The Sea Bird speaks the castaway on the buoy . . 86 

There swam the ugly form of a shark.226 

Nick had played his last card, and played it badly . 266 









THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 




















I 










THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 


CHAPTER I 

T HE bright sun of a warm day dimpled the 
waters of a Long Island harbor and 
picked out in high relief the varnished masts of 
a yawl lying at the float off Foley’s wharf. 
Here and there about the boat-yard carpenters 
worked slowly and professionally, putting boats 
in readiness for their spring launching, and the 
intermittent tapping of a calking hammer ac¬ 
centuated an enveloping atmosphere of calm and 
leisure. Only aboard the yawl was industry 
rampant. 

There, as any one could see who cared to walk 
to the head of the wharf and overlook her freshly 
painted deck, work was under way at a pace that 
marked the workers as enthusiastic amateurs. 
Phil Stevenson, seventeen years old, who had 
sailed boats almost since the day when his cradle 

3 


4 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

became too small to hold him, was standing 
astride the main-boom, fingers flying as he laced 
the snowy mainsail to the gaff. Phil’s twin 
brother Jim, whose tastes ran more to engines 
than to sail, was visible through the cabin hatch, 
his bare, glistening shoulders bent over the unre¬ 
sponsive form of a gasolene motor. 

Moving back and forth on deck a third boy 
was making things shipshape, coiling a line here, 
tightening a turnbuckle there, and generally per¬ 
forming the smaller but no less important duties 
of fitting a boat for sea. Tom Randolph was a 
landlubber, as he would have been the first to 
admit, but his instincts were those of a first-rate 
seaman. Something in the direct glance of his 
dark eyes and in the deft use of his hands in¬ 
dicated that when work was to be done he would 
do it to the limit of his strength and his intelli¬ 
gence. 

“Finish!” he exclaimed suddenly. “The til¬ 
ler ’s shipped, the sheets and halyards are coiled 
clockwise, as you told me, the gaff-jaws and 
mast-hoops are greased, and so far as I can see 
we ’re ready to shove off.” 


5 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

“Right,” answered Phil, ending off the gaff 
lacing and straightening up. “Let’s go. But,” 
he added, “we ’ll see how the chief is coming on.” 

Chief Jim, who had been grunting and strain¬ 
ing over an engine that showed no willingness to 
awaken from its winter’s sleep, now appeared in 
the companionway and announced with un¬ 
diminished optimism that the engine would be 
ready in a minute. 

“Oil on the timer-brushes and water in the 
carbureter,” he explained. “But that’s fixed, 
and when I get a lungful of air I ’ll turn her over 
and off we ’ll go.” 

“Fine,” said Tom, “I ’ll let go the lines and 
push her bow out from the float.” And he be¬ 
gan to suit action to the word. 

“Hold on, there!” cried Phil. “The first rule 
aboard this packet is never to let go of a good 
thing until you ’ve got another. Jim says the 
motor’s going to start, but the motor does n’t 
say so. Wait till she starts.” 

“Watch me,” said Jim, dropping back into the 
cabin, “and swallow ynur gloom. This is a real 
he-engine.” 


6 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 


The other boys leaned over the hatch coam¬ 
ing, Phil’s tongue busy with good-natured 
taunts, Tom’s eyes intent on observing the ac¬ 
tions of the chief. In the ship’s company he 
was listed as assistant engineer, and he had de¬ 
termined to lose no time in getting acquainted 
with this cold and lifeless chunk of metal. 

Jim’s fingers moved from timer to pet-cocks 
to switch, and then the palms of his hands rested 
on the rim of the fly-wheel. He paused for 
effect. “A simple twist of the bony wrist,” he 
exclaimed dramatically, “does the trick.” And 
he flipped the fly-wheel over. 

There was a sudden clatter of metallic noise, a 
coughing and stuttering as the two-cycle engine 
took life. On deck the clamor of the engine was 
accompanied by the sure-footed leap of Tom 
Randolph to the landing-float. “Shall I untie 
her now?” he asked. 

“No,” drawled Phil, who had moved from his 
position on the hatch coaming only enough to 
avoid the cloud of oily smoke arising from the 
cabin, “she ’ll stop. She always does. And, 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 7 

Tom, say ‘cast off’ instead of ‘untie her/ It’s 
more nautical/’ 

As if in answer to his prediction, the motor 
abruptly ceased its clatter, and Jim’s smiling face 
appeared in the companion way. “Mixture’s too 
lean,” he asserted laconically, with his usual 
omission of the less descriptive part of speech. 
“Whew, it’s hot!” 

Although the month was May, Jim was clad 
in regulation summer costume of dungaree 
trousers and sleeveless jersey—and managed to 
keep warm. He wiped his brow with a bunch 
of oily waste, and added, “Next time she ’ll go.” 

Again the glistening shoulders bent over the 
fly-wheel, and again the deck force leaned over 
the companionway. With skilful economy of 
motion Jim primed the cylinders, backed the 
needle-valve out a half-turn, and cranked the 
engine over. 

“The switch,” Phil reminded. 

“I’m a dumb-bell,” said Jim, and made the 
electrical contact. Again the engine started, 
and this time it was Phil who leaped to the float, 


8 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

while Tom sat still, determined not to be fooled 
twice. Not until Jim appeared on deck, his face 
wreathed in oily smiles, and took up the tiller 
did Tom realize that through some subtle dif¬ 
ference in the sound of the engine the brothers 
knew that it would keep running. 

“Blessed if I/ll ever be able to tell the differ¬ 
ence,” he declared to himself, running forward 
to gather in the bow-line, which Phil heaved 
clear of the float. 

Jim engaged the clutch as Phil cast off the 
stern-line and hurled himself aboard, and the 
proud little yawl headed toward the harbor 
mouth. “Snappy work, I calls it,” said Jim, re¬ 
linquishing the tiller and going below to tinker 
with his beloved engine. “If she buzzes off like 
that after a whole winter of doing nothing, she ’ll 
take us to Florida in jig time.” 

Phil crooked his elbow over the boom that 

♦ 

rested in the crutch above his head and glanced 
affectionately aloft at the spars and rigging. 
“You and your rattletrap engine!” he snorted 
derisively. “The sails are the babies that will 
take us to Florida—if we go.” 


9 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

“The chances are pretty good, are n’t they, 
Phil?” asked Tom of the youthful skipper. 
“Your father would n’t have let you put the Sea 
Bird in commission this early in the spring for 
nothing.” 

“Well, the latest word from headquarters— 
meaning the Governor—is this: He’s willing 
to have us take her to Norfolk if we can prove in 
a trial run here on the sound that we can handle 
the boat. But he’s going to lay her up for the 
summer in what they call The Hague—that’s a 
small boat haven in Norfolk—and next fall take 
her down the rest of the way himself. 

“Now, I’m hoping that when we get to Nor¬ 
folk he ’ll wire us like this: 'Let summer camp 
go hang. Beat it for Miami and return in time 
for college. How much cash do you need?’ ” 

Tom laughed appreciatively. “I have a life- 
sized, gold-framed portrait of your father sit¬ 
ting down to write such a telegram. But he 
certainly is a good sport, and he may let us go. 
You, I mean.” 

“Why not ‘us’?” asked Phil. “Your guardian 
will be tickled pink to get you off his hands, and 


10 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

you can paint and draw at sea as well as any¬ 
where else.” 

“I’d go like a shot, but I don’t know the first 
thing about sailing a boat.” 

“If that’s all that’s troubling you,” said Phil, 
“be calm. Take the tiller immediately, while I 
raise the sails. There’s a breeze coming.” 

During the preceding conversation the skip¬ 
per had been guiding the Sea Bird down a chan¬ 
nel that led between bare mud flats to the open 
sound. The boat had now come abreast the har¬ 
bor bar and was in a position to take advantage 
of the freshening breeze. Tom picked up the 
tiller and felt for the first time the thrill of ex¬ 
hilaration that is telegraphed from the rudder 
of a moving vessel to the heart of a real sailor. 

“Golly!” he exclaimed, “this is the life.” 

“Wait till we shut off that noisy motor,” coun¬ 
seled Phil, busily removing the canvas stops 
from the furled mainsail, “and you ’ll know what 
living is.” 

Jim, who had been in the seventh heaven fid¬ 
dling with his engine, came on deck when he 
heard the first rattle of the halyard blocks, and 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 11 

lent a hand in making sail. Under instructions 
from Phil, Tom threw out the clutch and headed 
the bow of the boat into the wind. The Steven¬ 
son brothers, acting without commands, raised 
the mainsail as the wind caught it fore and aft, 
and again in wordless unity of purpose one 
hoisted the jib as the other released the main- 
boom from the crutch and paid out the sheet. 
The wind caught the yawl on the starboard tack, 
the sails filled, and the bowsprit headed for the 
sound. 

“Here,” said Tom, who, it must be admitted, 
had been moving the tiller aimlessly, “take this 
thing and show me what to do. I’m no mind- 
reader.” 

“Right as usual,” Phil returned, beginning a 
cataract of words inspired by the sheer joy of be¬ 
ing under sail. “You just happened to keep us 
out of irons—I ’ll tell you some day what being 
in irons is (has nothing to do with prison-ships) 
—and we filled on the starboard tack, which 
luckily was right, and I naturally thought you 
were a sailing wiz. . . . Jim, for Pete’s sake, 
shut off that confounded motor so Tom can hear 



12 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

me think. And don’t start it again, ever. 
That’s more like it. . . . Now Tom, you sort 
of feel the wind on your cheek and watch it in 
the sail, and if the luff—that’s the edge near¬ 
est the mast, you know—flutters, you pay her 
off the wind like this. But if you get so far 
down the wind that you feel it on the back of 
your neck you bring her up, so, to avoid a jibe; 
and all the time you jockey with the tiller and 
keep the end of the main-sheet in your hand to 
yank it out of the cleat in case of a sudden 
squall.” And so on in a sort of illustrated 
lecture. 

The chances are that if Phil had not demon¬ 
strated each point as he made it, alternately flut¬ 
tering the luff and the leech and describing a 
course that must have seemed crazy to any on¬ 
looker from the shore, Tom would have been un¬ 
able to understand instructions. But he was 
quick to comprehend, and in five minutes he felt 
capable of handling the yawl under absolutely 
simple conditions of wind, course, and sea. So 
saying, he took the tiller, w T hile Phil hoisted the 



THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 13 

remaining sail, the mizzen, and picked up slack 
in all the halyards. 

The Sea Bird had by now crossed the harbor 
bar and was clear of every obstruction except a 
low-lying point and flat making out from the 
east side of the entrance. With the carelessness 
that sometimes overtakes a man who knows every 
foot of a harbor, Phil waved a casual hand in 
the direction of the flat, said, “Give it a good 
berth,” and joined Jim in coiling up the halyards. 
Unintentionally he was about to teach Tom a 
lesson that none of the three would ever for¬ 
get. 

Tom, knowing nothing of the betraying color 
of shallow water, hugged the flat too close. Sud¬ 
denly there was a bump and a sickening grind, 
a moment’s hesitation as the Sea Bird felt 
ground beneath her keel. Then, as the force of 
the wind still drove her on, the bow swung 
round, and the mainsail, catching the wind on 
the port side, snapped the heavy boom to star¬ 
board like a shuttle of a loom. 

“She’s jibing,” Phil and Jim cried as one 


14 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

voice. But they spoke too late, and it is doubt¬ 
ful whether Tom, rattled as he was, understood 
the significance of the phrase. Between the 
shoulders the boom caught him, and, gasping, he 
was hurled into the icy water. There he floun¬ 
dered helplessly for a second and sank. 

Phil and Jim had cruised about enough to act 
instinctively in a crisis, and there was no hesita¬ 
tion in this emergency. Sudden fear for the life 
of their comrade may have gripped their hearts, 
but it only galvanized their muscles, for Jim 
was in the water almost before it had closed over 
the inert form of Tom. In two strokes he was 
on the spot where the unconscious boy had gone 
down, and in another second he had raised him 
to the surface by the collar. 

Nor was Phil idle. Knowing that Jim could 
do his part, he had leaped instantly to the main¬ 
sail halyards. Loosing them and tugging with 
all his weight on the heavy canvas, he had 
roughly furled the sail by the time Jim brought 
his burden to the side of the yawl. Next to the 
saving of human life, the condition of the yawl 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 15 

was of major importance, for, with sails up, a 
sudden puff might capsize the craft. 

Now he lugged Tom aboard and gave a hand 
to Jim. The unfortunate Tom was still uncon¬ 
scious, and there was much need for haste. 

“I ’ll p-p-pump him out,” said Jim, “and 
g-g-get warm th-that way. B-b-blankets.” 
Without other words, he laid the half-drowned 
Tom across the cockpit coaming and pumped his 
arms to rid the lungs of water. 

Filled with anxiety though he was, his brother 
wasted no time in sympathy. With the remark, 
“I ’ll spell you if you need it,” Phil brought 
blankets from the cabin, and then busied himself 
with dousing jib and jigger. He threw over 
the light anchor lest the rising tide carry the Sea 
Bird still farther upon the mud flat, and lighted 
a fire in the galley stove. In five minutes the 
boat was shipshape again, and Tom, under the 
skilful manipulation of Jim, was returning to 
consciousness. 

“You didn’t take lessons in life-saving for 
nothing, I see,” was Phil’s characteristic way of 


16 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

giving praise and at the same time signifying 
that the crisis had been passed. 4 ‘But it was 
a narrow squeak.” 

A moment later Tom struggled to a sitting 
posture and stared vacantly about. Looking 
from one to the other of the serious faces before 
him, his memory suddenly joined his returned 
consciousness, and he said weakly, “I was twice 
an idiot: once for going aground, and again for 
letting the boom catch me. Hope you fellows 
will forgive me.” 

“Forgive you!” For the first time there was 
a trace of repressed emotion in Phil’s tones. 
“It was my fault entirely and you nearly passed 
out on account of it.” He held out his hand im¬ 
pulsively, and added with a smile, “If you ’ll 
forgive me and promise to kick me every time I 
call myself a seaman we ’ll be friends for life.” 

Here Jim interrupted. “Cut out the agony, 
boys, and we ’ll get the victim below where he 
can dry out. Double pneumonia’s looking for 
both of us.” 

So saying, he assisted the much shaken Tom to 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 17 

his feet and with the aid of his brother eased him 
through the companionway to the bunk nearest 
the galley range. Wet clothes were replaced by 
dry ones, and, while the rising tide slowly floated 
the Sea Bird free, the three shipmates discussed 
details of their mishap and its bearing on the 
future. 


CHAPTER II 


I T went without saying that Mr. Stevenson 
should be told of Phil’s error in seamanship. 
But in the hearts of all three boys it was much 
open to question whether he would permit them 
to carry out their cruise to Norfolk. Each 
honestly believed that such a mistake could never 
happen again, but none could forecast the effect 
of such an unfortunate beginning on the 
grown-up mind. 

Consequently when, in the late afternoon of 

the same day, the Sea Bird was returned under 

power to her mooring, hope was at its lowest ebb. 

With Phil at the tiller and Jim manning the 

boat-hook, the buoy was picked up expertly, and 

the work of covering the sails and straightening 

up for the night proceeded with quiet matter-of- 

factness. But when in answer to their hail a 

small boat put out for them from Foley’s yard, 

it was three rather dispirited boys who clambered 

aboard and were rowed ashore. 

18 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 19 

Nor did it lighten their spirits to find Mr. 
Stevenson waiting for them on the wharf. Even 
though duty must be done, they would have wel¬ 
comed a little respite in which to make up their 
minds to it. And his first words even deepened 
their gloom. 

“Well, boys,” he said, as they met near the end 
of the wharf, “I watched you coming up the har¬ 
bor, and I must say that you handle the Sea Bird 
smartly. If you do as well under sail, my con¬ 
sent to the Norfolk proposition is already 
granted.” 

Jim and Tom glanced at Phil, who accepted 
the position of spokesman with resignation. 

“We have n’t done as well under sail, Dad,” 
he said, hesitantly. “In fact, we ran her 
aground right at the entrance to the harbor.” 

“Beached her at the entrance to your own har¬ 
bor, eh? Who had the helm?” 

“I did, sir,” replied Tom quickly. 

Mr. Stevenson reflected a moment. “But it 
was your fault, was n’t it, Phil? You were in 
command, I take it.” 

“Yes, Dad, it was my fault. I turned the 


20 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

tiller over to Tom before we were clear of the 
flat, and he had no way of knowing that we were 
in shoal water.” 

“You took it for granted, I suppose, that be¬ 
cause you know the harbor perfectly Tom would 
know it, too?” 

“I have n’t a word to say, Dad. I was care¬ 
less; and the worst of it is that when we jibed 
Tom was knocked overboard and nearly 
drowned.” 

“Serious as that, was it? Are you all right 
now, Tom?” 

“Oh! I’m fine. Jim pulled me out and 
saved my life.” 

Here Jim shuffled his feet uncomfortably and 
spoke his first word since reaching the dock. 
“Pshaw,” he said. 

Surprisingly enough, Mr. Stevenson chuckled. 
“Up to your old tricks again, Jim,” he declared. 
“I always said you were web-footed.” Then his 
voice sobered, and he continued seriously: 
“Boys, you have done a foolish thing and have 
had a close call. But two of you at least have 
learned a lesson. Phil, I think, has learned that 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 21 

if he wants to sail a boat of mine, or any boat, 
he must pay attention to sailing, and Tom has 
learned that the main-boom is a man-killer. 
Now, the important thing is this: Has any of 
you lost his nerve?” 

“Not I, sir,” said Phil, and Tom echoed his 
words. “Me either,” added Jim, who had his 
own method of expression. 

“Good,” said his father. “I ’ll put you to the 
test to-night. We ’ll go home first for dinner 
and overcoats, and then you can sail me out of 
the harbor and down the sound until daylight. 
Tom and I will be passengers; Phil and Jim 
will be the crew.” 

“Whoopee!” the three boys shouted with an 
enthusiasm that left no doubt of their gameness. 
They raced madly for Mr. Stevenson’s car, and 
the father of the twins, who was pretty much of 
a boy himself, followed after, smiling happily, 
in the gathering darkness. 

At ten o’clock, when, well fed and clothed, 
the four returned to Foley’s wharf, the harbor, 
—or as much as could be seen of it—had a 
foreign, hostile look. The night was inky black, 


22 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

and to Tom’s untrained eyes not even the tall 
masts of the Sea Bird were discernible. 

4 ‘How you ’re ever going to get her out of here 
is beyond me,” he whispered to Phil as they 
rowed toward the yawl; and it must be confessed 
that to Phil himself the prospect had its terrors. 
Although he had sailed in and out of the harbor 
a hundred times by day, he had never attempted 
it on a moonless night, and he well knew that in 
the darkness angles and distances are deceptive. 
Still, the tide was high, and he consoled himself 
with the thought that if he did miss the channel 
he would have a little leeway on either side be¬ 
fore getting into water that was too shpal for 
the Sea Bird's draft. 

Jim, on the other hand, had never a care in 
the world. He was the first to climb aboard the 
yawl, turning when he reached the deck to give 
a hand to his father; and then he busied himself 
silently with the running-lights. Tom would 
have helped him, but Mr. Stevenson stopped him 
with the remark, 

“No, Tom, we ’re passengers. We’ve paid 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 23 

our money, and we see the sights. Leave the 
crew alone.” 

But when Jim, having set the lights in the rig¬ 
ging, dropped below and took the canvas cover 
off the engine, his father forgot his role of pas¬ 
senger and cried: 

“Ho, James, what are you doing with that 
engine?” 

“Why, Dad,” Jim replied, “we always get un¬ 
der way with power. Saves a lot of time.” 

“Time!” echoed his father derisively. “We 
have the whole night before us. Come on deck 
and help Phil with the sails. There’s a fine 
little slant of wind blowing, and it would be a 
shame to waste it. 

“When I was a boy,” he continued, “we did n’t 
have such things as engines, and the wind made 
real sailors of us.” 

Jim, who knew perfectly well when he could 
take liberties with his father, appeared on deck 
with the query: “How about the time you were 
becalmed for forty hours within a mile of your 
own mooring? You didn’t do much sailing 


24 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

then.” He turned to in the general laugh that 
greeted this sally, and lent a hand to Phil. 

In a matter of five minutes the weather-covers 
and stops were off all the sails, and the brothers, 
working by sense of touch alone, had raised the 
mainsail and mizzen. The sails towered ghost¬ 
like above them, flapping gently as their booms 
swung from side to side. 

“Now,” said Phil to Jim, “I ’ll take the tiller, 
and you cast off the mooring and hoist the jib. 
We ’ll get under way on the port tack and come 
about as soon as we have cleared the wharf.” 

Swinging slightly on her mooring, the Sea 
Bird felt the breeze first on one side and then 
the other, and the trick of getting under way 
was to raise the foresail or jib when the wind 
would fill it from the port side. The other sails, 
which, until then, had been spilling the air as 
it struck them, would, when sheeted in, fill 
smartly, and the yawl would dart away to star¬ 
board. As Mr. Stevenson explained to Tom, 
unless this was done carefully the boat would 
go into irons, or, in other words, remain with her 
bow to the wind and be out of control. In such 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 25 

a condition she would drift helplessly until the 
sails filled, perhaps on a tack that would pile 
the boat up on shore. “In narrow places/’ he 
added, “it is a delicate point of seamanship, and 
is generally avoided nowadays by using the 
motor.” 

But under the critical eye of his father the 
skipper of the Sea Bird was care personified. 
Standing with his face to the bow, he felt the 
wind on his left cheek and suddenly hailed: 
“Let go and hoist away! Look alive!” 

There was a splash as the buoy hit the water, 
a shrill shriek of blocks as the jib traveled to 
the masthead, a triple slap as the sails held the 
wind, and the Sea Bird darted off. In the dark¬ 
ness it seemed to Tom’s confused vision that 
the dock, lighted by a single lamp, was coming 
straight aboard the yawl, but again Phil’s sharp 
voice cut the night. 

“Ready about!” he called. “Hard alee!” 

And as Mr. Stevenson pulled Tom down to 
avoid the boom, which now swung in from star¬ 
board and out to port, the dock fell astern and 
was lost to sight. The brothers, working quickly. 


26 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

adjusted jib-sheets and backstay runners, and 
the Sea Bird was off on a long tack down the 
channel. 

“Done like sailors, boys,” said Mr. Stevenson 
proudly. “But when we get in to-morrow, I 
want you to go over your running-gear and 
grease all the blocks. Your sheaves scream like 
tortured souls.” 

“Aye, aye, sir,” said Phil, calmly. Standing 
erect at the tiller, his glance roving this way and 
that as he sought to distinguish familiar land¬ 
marks, his alert face was thrown into high relief 
by the rays of the cockpit lantern, and, despite 
his youth, he looked every inch a sailor. 

“A good boy, and a fearless one,” was Mr. 
Stevenson’s silent comment; “and while he ’ll 
grease the blocks in the morning, he’s thinking 
just now that his old father would be better off 
between blankets.” 

Aloud he said: “Tom, you prowl about the 
deck and get acquainted with the feel of things. 
I’m going below to rest my rheumatic bones. 
Good night, all.” 

This act of Mr. Stevenson’s gave to Phil the 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 27 

last ounce of confidence that he had needed to 
pilot the Sea Bird safely down the channel; and 
although he declared afterward that he shook all 
the marrow out of his leg-bones, he made no error 
in his navigating. Once indeed, Tom, clinging 
to the mainmast and peering into the night, 
sighted a can-buoy almost under the boat’s bows, 
and it took manoeuvering of the most prompt 
and skilful sort to avoid it. But for the rest 
Phil tacked and ran his course and tacked again 
with perfect assurance. 

“It’s not so difficult, you see,” said Jim, who 
all along had played the minor part of hauling 
jib-sheets and backstays. “But you have to be 
Phil to do it.” 

“Just what it looks like to me,” returned Tom. 
“I’ve been standing for twenty minutes at the 
bow, and I tell you right now that if ever I have 
to crawl out on the bowsprit at sea I ’ll simply 
curl up and die.” 

“Oh,” said Phil, “you can do most anything if 
you have to. You ’ll see.” 


CHAPTER III 


O NCE the Sea Bird had threaded her way 
out of harbor and into the sound, she had 
a clear run to eastward, with the wind blowing 
moderately from the west. Under such a con¬ 
dition, tacking became unnecessary, and Jim re¬ 
lieved Phil at the helm so that the latter might 
follow Mr. Stevenson and Tom below to get 
what Phil called “a little shut-eye.” 

Toward two o’clock, Jim awakened his brother 
with the remark that the night was fair but cold, 
and when Phil went on deck to stand the watch 
until five it was with reefer well buttoned and 
cap pulled down about his ears. Jim again had 
the watch when shortly after s'even o’clock Mr. 
Stevenson’s tousled head appeared in the com¬ 
panionway. 

“Where are we?” he asked sleepily, and when 
Jim replied with the three words, “Off Port 
Jeff,” he said, “I see you stayed afloat this 
time.” 


28 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 29 

Phil showed on deck a moment later with the 
remark that he could eat his weight in bacon and 
eggs, and Tom’s appearance was greeted with a 
cheer when he said that he would cook the break¬ 
fast. For a few minutes all hands but Jim, 
whose turn would come later, were busy with 
soap and water, and then there was wafted 
through the hatchway the delectable odor of fry¬ 
ing bacon. 

Mr. Stevenson relieved Jim at the tiller and 
glanced approvingly about the deck. What he 
saw, bounding along in the crisp morning sun¬ 
light, was a yawl of the heavy-weather type, full 
forward, with graceful sheer and deep amidship 
sections, and with a beam a little too broad for 
her length of thirty-five feet. What her extra 
width lost her in speed it made up in seaworthi¬ 
ness, and it could truthfully be said of the Sea 
Bird that she would sail safely with her lee deck 
a foot under water. 

Instead of the usual rounded bowsprit, she 
was provided with a short, heavy sprit of thick 
planking, which had the advantage of furnishing 
a stable platform when work was to be done on 


30 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

the jib at sea. The sprit ended inboard in a 
double horizontal capstan, used for hoisting the 
ground-tackle, which was flanked on the star¬ 
board or right-hand side by an anchor of fifty 
pounds’ weight. To port was the storm-anchor, 
weighing one hundred pounds, both of the 
anchors being collapsed so that their flukes and 
arms would not interfere with the movement of 
the jib-sheets. Heavy manila lines led from the 
anchors through hawse-pipes to a locker beneath 
the deck. 

Three feet abaft the capstan was the main¬ 
mast, a tall, slender stick of Oregon pine, and 
behind it the pin-rail, where belaying-pins were 
stowed, and attached to which were the blocks 
that guided the mainsail and jib halyards. 
Next came the cabin-house, a smoking funnel on 
the port side aft indicating the location of Tom’s 
activities with breakfast. The cabin roof, raised 
a foot above the deck, ended at the cockpit, which 
was a narrow well about seven feet long. In this 
well Mr. Stevenson stood at the tiller, and, 
glancing behind him, he could see the smaller 
spar which was the mizzen- or jigger-mast, the 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 31 

bumpkin, which at the stem of the boat somewhat 
corresponded with the bowsprit, the main and 
mizzen sheets, and other lines by which the boat 
was sailed. 

Canvas covered the whole deck, paint and 
varnish protected it from the wear of the sea 
and of human feet, and about everything there 
was a trigness of an old-time clipper-ship. 

There came a cheery hail of “Breakfast!” 
from the cabin. 

“He means,” Jim interpreted, relieving his 
father at the tiller, “ Tome and get it, sailor.’ ” 

“How do you think Tom will make out, Jim?” 
asked Mr. Stevenson, preparing to go below. 
“He hasn’t had much experience, has he?” 

“No,” said Jim, “but he’s willing, and he 
does n’t whistle. With that much for a start, 
Phil will make a sailor of him. . . . By the way, 
Dad, do you mean by that that the Norfolk 
trip is on?” 

“We ’ll see,” replied Mr. Stevenson. “Never 
ask favors before breakfast.” 

With which sound advice, Mr. Stevenson de¬ 
scended the ladder to the cabin. 


32 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

Left alone on deck, Jim considered the cruise 
possibilities. Phil and he, having passed the col¬ 
lege entrance examinations in February, were 
now waiting to continue their education in the 
autumn. As their father was comfortably situ¬ 
ated in life, there was no necessity for their work¬ 
ing during the summer, and to occupy their 
minds and hands he had permitted them to put 
the Sea Bird in commission. They had been 
aided in their work by Tom Randolph, who, hav¬ 
ing also completed his high-school career, 
planned to enter art school at the end of sum¬ 
mer. Now that the yawl was in the water, 
freshly painted inside and out, with her sailing- 
tackle overhauled and renewed, there was little 
else to do on her, and unless the cruise became an 
actuality, she would lie virtually idle at her moor¬ 
ing, while the Stevenson boys made their annual 
visit to a summer camp in the Adirondacks. 

If Mr. Stevenson decided, however, to have 
the boat taken to Norfolk, on a long, loafing 
voyage by way of Chesapeake Bay and the inside 
route, Jim believed that he would probably give 


THE SEA BIRD S QUEST 33 

further permission to continue south. As he had 
withheld criticism of the Sea Bird's handling on 
the night’s run, when, Jim could be sure, he had 
slept with one ear open, it was reasonable to 
suppose that he was pleased with the boys’ work. 

Jim was aroused from his reflection by a sud¬ 
den banging of the sails. The wind, which had 
been slacking off since daylight, had now died 
away entirely, and the “telltale” pennant hung 
limply from the masthead. 

“No wind,” he called, “and I’m hungry.” 

“Right,” said Phil, appearing in the hatchway 
with his face turned aloft in the characteristic 
gesture that is as old as sailing itself, “and there’s 
not a cloud in the sky. Get your chow, and I ’ll 
lower the sails. Lend a hand, will you, Tom, 
and let the dishes go till later?” 

But it appeared from noises in the galley that 
Mr. Stevenson was washing the dishes and good- 
naturedly urging Jim to swallow his breakfast 
so that he might finish up and get on deck. 

“Dad’s feeling the motion,” Phil whispered 
to Tom. “It’s always a lot worse when there’s 


34 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

no wind in the sails to steady the boat, and in 
about five minutes he ’ll be asking why we don’t 
start the motor. Jim’s been itching for this 
chance to have a fling at the old-time wind¬ 
jammers.” 

Sure enough, Mr. Stevenson came up a little 
later, his face a delicate shade of green. “Oh- 
hum,” he said, yawning widely, “my stomach’s 
not what it used to be when I was a lad. What 
are you doing, Phil, with the sails lowered? A 
lark ’s a lark, but I can’t drift around the sound 
all day. Mother told us to be sure to be home 
for Sunday dinner.” 

“Sure you want dinner, Dad?” asked Phil. 
“You’ve only just finished breakfast. Besides, 
there’s no wind.” 

“We thought,” continued Jim, taking his cue 
like the end-man at a minstrel show, “that you’d 
like a taste of the kind of sailing you had when 
you were a boy, when the wind made a real 
sailor of you.” 

“Looks to me,” Phil took up the refrain, 
glancing around at the cloudless sky, “as if we’d 
be becalmed for forty hours, though you can’t 


35 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

ever tell in May. It might come on to snow and 
blow any minute.” 

“Enough, boys,” said Mr. Stevenson. “I 
may be a wind-jammer, but I’m not a mossback. 
Start the motor, and we ’ll go home.” 

So keen was Jim’s delight at his father’s sur¬ 
render that he almost dived into the cabin, and 
two minutes later the motor took up its 
cheery song. Under way again, the motion of 
the boat flattened out, and Mr. Stevenson re¬ 
covered his normal color. His disposition had 
hardly been affected at all, and while the three 
boys lay about the warm deck in a variety of 
luxurious attitudes, he sat at the tiller and told 
yarns of his own cruising days. 

The Sea Bird was approaching the entrance 
to her home port about four hours later when 
Tom sighted a small sloop lying becalmed a mile 
away. Her sails flapped uselessly, and it was 
evident that she belonged to the fast disappear¬ 
ing class of sailing-yachts that are not equipped 
with power. 

“Hallo,” said Mr. Stevenson, following the di¬ 
rection of Tom’s pointed finger, “that looks like 


36 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

Dick Caldwell’s sloop. He’s an old-time wind¬ 
jammer if there ever was one. . . . Some¬ 
body ’s waving a pair of flags at us.” 

“It’s semaphore,” Phil volunteered. “Wish 
I knew it. It comes in awfully handy at sea.” 

To the surprise of every one, Tom, who had 
waved his arms on sighting the strange craft and 
had since concentrated his attention on it, here 
spoke up: 

“He says that he’s got to get in immediately 
and that he would like us to give him a tow. If 
Mr. Stevenson is aboard he apologizes to him for 
not having an auxiliary engine.” 

Interest in Tom’s skill at reading semaphore 
for a moment overshadowed the import of the 
message. “Did he spell all that out while you 
were watching him?” asked Mr. Stevenson. 
And, “Where the dickens did you pick that up?” 
queried Phil. Jim’s only comment was: “I 
could have guessed that myself. When a boat 
has n’t any motor it’s always wanting a tow.” 

Tom’s natural modesty struggled with his 
pride in the discovery that he had an accomplish¬ 
ment that would be valuable to his shipmates, 


37 


THE SEA BIRD S QUEST 

and he said: “Oh, it’s easy enough; part of the 
Boy Scouts’ training. What shall I tell him, 
Mr. Stevenson?” 

“Tell him we ’ll be alongside in ten minutes.” 

The message was transmitted, and while the 
yawl chugged steadily toward the becalmed 
sloop, Tom continued a long-distance conversa¬ 
tion. The more he “listened” to the messages 
semaphored by the man on the other boat the 
darker his look became, and he finally exclaimed 
aloud: 

“Who is that bird on Caldwell’s boat? He 
says I semaphore like an army corporal and that 
when it comes to sailing a boat I’m not there 
at all. He was watching us through the glasses 
when I ran aground yesterday, and he wants to 
know if we run on wheels.’* 

“Oh,” said Phil, “that must be Nick Calla¬ 
way, who works for Caldwell. He ran away to 
the navy when he was fifteen, and he picked up 
a lot of bad habits without learning any good 
ones. Tell him to close his yap.” 

“I’d rather close it for him,” said Tom deci¬ 
sively, with a final flourish of his arms. 


38 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

Under the circumstances, no time and few 
words were wasted in passing over a tow-line 
when the Sea Bird ran alongside. Mr. Caldwell 
and Mr. Stevenson exchanged hearty greetings, 
but Tom and the twins wasted no words on the 
ex-navy signalman as Phil tossed him the end 
of a line. The latter made it fast to the sloop’s 
capstan, and, without entirely losing headway, 
the Sea Bird was off with the other yacht in tow. 

“Well done, boys,” said the owner of the yawl. 
“If you make a good landing at Foley’s I ’ll 
undoubtedly have some news for you.” 

But Fate, through the agency of Nick Calla¬ 
way, was to mar the landing. There is a right 
way to secure a rope that is to take a heavy 
strain, and there is also a wrong way. Nick, 
despite his navy training, chose the wrong way. 
So it happened that when the two yachts ap¬ 
proached the wharf and Phil passed the word to 
cast off, Nick was unable to loosen the hitches 
that he had taken around the capstan. He 
struggled and fumed, taking the weight of the 
towing craft off the line with one arm while 


39 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

striving to push the loose end through the hitch. 
It was in vain. 

“Cut it,” cried Tom. Jim and his father be¬ 
ing busy forward, he was alone at the stern of 
the Sea Bird . 

Nick’s growing resentment against the refrac¬ 
tory rope blazed into unreasonable anger with 
Tom. He stood erect, regardless of the danger 
of collision into which his carelessness had 
already brought them. 

“Who are you telling to cut it, you landlub¬ 
ber?” he shouted. “Standing there doing noth¬ 
ing. Cast off your own end.” 

The words were wise, despite their source, and 
Tom, swallowing his gorge, stooped to obey. But 
he was too late. Phil, his speed reduced, and 
cramped by the near-by wharf, swung wide, and 
the sloop on its short tether remorselessly pur¬ 
sued it. 

There was a crash as bowsprit and mizzen- 
boom collided, and a volley of profanity from 
Callaway. Tom, clutching the mizzen-shrouds, 
saved himself from going overboard, and stood 


40 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

up, eye to eye, with Callaway, halyards and 
stays swaying about them. 

“A pretty mess you’ve got us into,” said 
Nick, disgustedly. “If it had been anybody but 
you on the after deck we’d ’a’ come clear.” 

“I can’t see that it was my fault,” said Tom 
defiantly. “Your knot jammed, and I didn’t 
have time.” 

“My knot jammed,” Nick hooted. “Trying 
to put the blame on me, are you, you dirty, low- 
down skunk. I ’ll—” 

This was too much for Tom, good-natured 
though he was. With a lithe spring he cleared 
the gap between the two boats and landed on 
the deck of the sloop. 

“What will you do?” he demanded hotly, his 
face within a foot of Nick’s and his hands 
clenched. “You’ve said too much. Now put 
up or shut up.” 

Nick was no coward, and for answer he 
stepped back a pace and started a blow at Tom’s 
jaw. But the fight ended before it began. 

Mr. Caldwell, coming forward on the run, 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 41 

seized Nick’s arm with mighty grip and swung 
the furious youth against the mast. 

“Now,” said he, his voice angry but controlled, 
“listen while I talk. I saw the whole thing, and 
it was no one’s fault but yours. You took the 
line, and it was your place to cast off. You tied 
some kind of a farmer’s, knot and it jammed, 
and as a result you have smashed us up. Add¬ 
ing insult to injury, you have called Tom Ran¬ 
dolph names that neither he nor I will put up 
with. You ’re fired. I ’ll give you a count of 
ten to get off this boat, whether you have to fly 
or swim. One, two, three.” 

“Aw, Mr. Caldwell,” Nick interrupted, his 
anger cooled by this ultimatum. “I admit I 
lost my temper, but you got no call to fire me 
on that account.” 

“I’m discharging you because you are a 
liability on a boat. You ’ll do better on a farm, 
tying knots in cows’ tails. Four, five, six, 
seven.” 

In the space of a few seconds the Stevensons, 
witnesses of this sudden encounter between 


42 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

boats and between humanity, had run the gamut 
of emotions from surprise and alarm to anger. 
But now they laughed. 

“Make it twelve, Caldwell,” suggested Mr. 
Stevenson, “and he can step ashore. We are 
drifting in toward the float.” 

“Eight,” said Mr. Caldwell. “I give you fair 
warning, Callaway, that I am a man of my 
word. You go off at the count of ten.” He 
was a man, too, who could back his word, and, 
in speaking, he had crowded Nick across the 
narrow deck to its gunwale. “Nine.” 

“All right, I’m going,” cried Nick hastily, 
“but gimme room to jump.” 

“Ten—and off you go.” 

But Nick had jumped without the help of 
his late employer, and, to the surprise of every 
one, had made the distance to the dock. The 
sympathy of the onlookers was with him for a 
moment, until, climbing the ladder to the wharf, 
Nick’s anger again got the better of him, and he 
turned, spluttering with fury. 

“You, Tom,” he shouted, “can try to make 
a monkey out o’ me when your gang’s with you, 


43 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

but just wait till I catch you alone. I ’ll get 
you yet, see?” 

“Well,” said Jim, when his irate form had dis¬ 
appeared, “you’ve got friends of all kinds, Tom, 
but I ’ll say he’s the prize basket of raspberries.” 

“I’m well rid of him,” Mr. Caldwell re¬ 
marked to the twin’s father when the boats had 
swung in to the dock and they were inspecting 
the damage. “He is deceitful and lazy, and I 
have never, felt that he could be relied upon in a 
pinch.” 

Tom and the Stevenson boys, discussing the 
affair by themselves, dreaded its bearing on their 
proposed expedition. But of this they were 
more than reassured in another moment. 

“None of you boys is to blame,” said Mr. 
Stevenson, “and the damage to the yawl is 
slight. She needs a new mizzen-boom, but two 
days at the most ought to see you ready for the 
run to Norfolk.” 


CHAPTER IV 


A LTHOUGH the new mizzen-boom was 
promptly turned and shipped at the boat¬ 
yard, the boys themselves were unready to get 
off within the time stated by Mr. Stevenson. 
There were gasolene and water to be put aboard 
in the cylindrical tanks flanking the cockpit 
well, and the matter of provisions involved con¬ 
sultation with men who were experienced in 
long-distance cruising. There were charts and 
other waterway publications to be looked up and 
purchased, and time and attention had to be 
devoted to last-minute details, such as oiled 
clothing, crockery, and so on. All these things 
meant delay. 

Mr. Stevenson himself selected the charts, and 
on Friday evening of the week that had been 
started with the practice run on the sound he 
called the three boys to his study and talked to 
them about the route that he wanted them to 
take between New York and Norfolk. 


44 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 45 

“Now,” he said, when he had cleared space 
on his study-table and spread a chart upon it, 
“it is possible for a boat like the Sea Bird to 
make the run to Norfolk by the open sea, and 
I don’t doubt that you boys could get there 
safely. But since we have an inland route that 
is both sheltered and interesting you might as 
well use it. As you see, it starts at New 
Brunswick, New Jersey, in the lower part of 
New York Harbor, and follows the Raritan 
Canal to the Delaware River.” 

“Suppose the canal is closed for repairs, or 
anything,” interrupted* Jim, “could we take the 
outside route?” 

“It won’t be,” said his father, with the air of 
positiveness that even the best of fathers have. 
“Why should you wish to go outside?” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jim replied. “More ex¬ 
citing, I guess.” 

“If I’m any judge, you ’ll have enough ex¬ 
citement on the Chesapeake. Now attend. 

“You follow the Delaware River down past 
Philadelphia and for about fifty miles until you 
come to a little town miscalled Delaware City. 


46 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

There you take the Chesapeake Canal, which 
brings you out at the head of Chesapeake Bay. 
When you get there you can take your time and 
explore around as much as you like, but you ’ll 
have to be careful about the depth of the water. 
Norfolk, as you see, lies at the foot of the bay.” 

While speaking, Mr. Stevenson had unfolded 
one chart after another, and Tom, to whom 
charts were a great novelty, had wanted to ask 
a hundred questions about the meaning of the 
lines, the shading, the figures, and the symbols 
with which they were marked. But his interest 
in these things was eclipsed by his discovery that 
charts of the sea-coast between New York and 
Norfolk were also included in the set. 

“Hello!” he cried. “Are you giving us coast 
charts because we may be blown to sea?” 

“Not much chance of that,” Mr. Stevenson re¬ 
plied. “I bought these because of their geo¬ 
graphical value and also because you never can 
tell when they may come in handy. A friend 
of mine, the captain of a submarine-chaser in 
European waters, told me that when he took 
command he found charts of every inch of Eu- 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 47 

rope’s sea-coast in his locker. He was ordered 
to duty in one small bay and thought he would 
never have use for more than one or two of 
them. But after the war he was sent on des¬ 
patch service from Italy to France, from France 
to Portugal, and from Portugal to Russia. 
And whenever he was ordered to a new locality 
he looked in his locker and found a chart of it. 
He said it was like Fortunatus’ purse, except 
that he had an unlimited supply of charts in¬ 
stead of money. 

“And speaking of money,” Mr. Stevenson 
continued, “I ’ve paid the bills for your gro¬ 
ceries and gasblene, and I ’ll meet all the ex¬ 
penses of cruising for the three of you. What 
you spend for shore amusement must come out 
of your allowances. All of you, including Tom, 
would better be saving, and have as good a time 
as you can for the least money.” 

“Plere goes for one cheap evening,” said Phil, 
when his father had left the boys in possession 
of the charts. “Next to sailing itself, there’s 
nothing I’d rather do than look up waters to 
go sailing on.” 


48 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

With the stroke of ten, Mrs. Stevenson, a 
cheerful, bustling woman, came to the study 
door. The daughter of a mariner and the wife 
and mother of amateur sailors, she knew the lure 
that the sea has for men, and, except for her 
dislike of being separated from her sons, she was 
thoroughly reconciled to their trip. 

“Come, boys,” she declared, entering, “it’s 
time for bed. Yours is ready for you, Tom, and 
as you ’re not as used to boats as my sons are, 
you’d better make the most qf it. There’s a 
deal of difference between a soft mattress and 
a hard bunk, as you ’ll soon find out.” 

There were a few things to be discussed—a 
sewing-kit that Mrs. Stevenson had made for the 
boys, a cloth-covered cook-book that might come 
in handy when they ran out of bacon and eggs, 
and one thing or another; but it was not long be¬ 
fore she had piloted them nut of the study and 
to their own rooms. It was, as she said, the last 
time for some weeks that she would have that 
authority over them, and she was determined to 
exercise it. 

The following morning everything was in 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 49 

readiness for the departure. Up to then, so 
gradually had they become used to the cruise 
idea, none of the three boys had thought of the 
actual moment of sailing as an event of especial 
importance. But when from the deck of the Sea 
Bird they looked shoreward and saw Mr. and 
Mrs. Stevenson waiting to wave them good-by 
they realized that parting would be a severe 
break. 

“It’s funny,” said Phil. “I kind of hate to 
go, now that we ’re at the point of it. No tell¬ 
ing what may happen to them or to us.” 

“Not crawling, are you, Phil?” asked Jim, 
who, although he shared Phil’s emotion, could 
not bear to be thought downhearted. “What 
will Tom say if the skipper’s nervous?” 

“I ’ll say,” piped up Tom, “that you ’re both 
realizing for the first time what it is to leave a 
home like yours. But you have it to come back 
to, which is everything. Let’s go.” 

“The kid is clever,” said Phil. “All hands un¬ 
moor ship.” 

Actual good-byes had been said from the 
wharf, and now as the Sea Bird headed out of 


50 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

the harbor under power the three youthful mari¬ 
ners waved nonchalant farewells. After all, 
they would spend that night in New Jersey, 
and there’s nothing so very upsetting about that. 

Once through Throgs Neck and in the East 
River, there were many new sights to occupy the 
minds of the boys. Hell Gate, the terror of 
navigators of a bygone generation, proved mild 
and docile, and even the tugs and ferry-boats 
showed a reluctance to harm the small yawl that 
bobbed through the chop off the Battery. Miss 
Liberty smiled in that inscrutable way she has, 
and said to herself, “More young American blood 
bound for the open sea.” 

But Miss Liberty cannot see what happens be¬ 
yond the Narrows, and so she was spared the 
disappointment of observing Phil put the helm 
over and head southwest for the Jersey shore. 
Darkness was falling, when, still under power, 
the Sea Bird left the Raritan River and drew 
up at the entrance of the canal. 

“Lie here for the night?” asked Tom of a 
wizened old man who slouched down to watch 
him make the yawl fast to a dock. 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 51 

“Stay for several nights ef you want to,” re¬ 
plied the old man. “Can’t go no further.” 

“Why not?” asked Phil, jumping ashore. 
“Is n’t this the Raritan Canal?” 

“Sure is.” 

“Then why can’t we go through in the morn¬ 
ing?” 

“ ’Cause there can’t nobody go through. 
There’s a coal-barge sunk acrost it.” 

“But,” Phil protested, “we don’t draw much 
and we might go over or around the barge.” 

“An’ then again you might not,” said the old 
man, who was one of those who find it agreeable 
to be disagreeable. “In the fust place, this canal 
ain’t run for the convenience of no pleasure- 
crafts, and in the second place orders is that no 
craft, not even a rowboat, can go through until 
the barge is raised.” 

“And when will that be?” asked Phil. 

“Ast them as knows. It might be a day and 
it might be a week.” 

“Well,” said Tom, feeling that since he had 
begun the conversation he might as well end it, 
“thank you for nothing.” 


52 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

The two boys joined Jim in the cabin, where 
he was going over the engine, and broke the dis¬ 
appointing news to him. 

“I move,” he said immediately, “that we go the 
outside route.” 

“Second the motion,” said Phil; “but it’s a 
risk, and we ’ll have to call up Dad first.” 

“Call him up, but don’t tell him it’s a risk.” 

“But how about it?” asked Tom. “Can we 
find our way without knowing how to navigate?” 

“How can we lose it?” asked Phil in return, 
“when we have charts and a clear coast to follow? 
If we did get blown off we have a compass, and 
we can always head west until we strike land.” 

“Then,” said Tom, “it’s all right by me. I 
just wanted to know.” 

So with quickened pulses the three boys turned 
to in the preparation of supper. When the 
dishes had been put away the coast charts were 
pulled out from the locker, and over them Phil 
leaned with parallel rules and dividers, laying 
courses and measuring distances to Norfolk. 
Tom, looking over his shoulder, found that at in¬ 
tervals of not more than fifty miles there are 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 53 

harbors into which a small boat may run for 
safety; and any uncertainty that he may have 
felt was dispelled by this discovery. He was 
still unused to the ways of the sea. 

Late in the evening Phil walked up town to 
the nearest telephone, called up his home on 
Long Island, and put the request to his father. 
Mr. Stevenson digested it and told Phil to hold 
the wire while he talked to his mother. 

Coming back to the instrument he said: “You 
there, Phil? Well, your mother and I have de¬ 
cided that if it’s a good day to-morrow you may 
go outside as far as the Delaware River. Go 
no farther than that, and stop at the Breakwater 
to ’phone us that you ’re safe inside again. Are 
you sure you can make out all right?” 

“Oh, sure, Dad. We’ve doped out the 
courses, and, anyway, it’s just a matter of fol¬ 
lowing the beach at a safe distance.” 

“All right, then. Good-by, and good luck.” 

“Night, Dad,” exclaimed Phil ecstatically; 
“you ’re a corker.” 

“That’s as it may be,” came faintly through 
the receiver. “I used to be a boy myself.” 


CHAPTER V 


“ T FEEL,” exclaimed Tom, “like a combina- 
JL tion of Columbus and a navy aviator. 
Everything new before me, and no strings to 
tie me to the earth. Bring on your gales and 
your sea-serpents.” 

“Better take ’em one at a time,” warned Phil. 
“We ’re not in the open sea yet, and you never 
can tell how you ’ll stand the roll until you’ve 
tried it.” 

It was a fine, bright morning of late May, and 

the Sea Bird , with all sail set, was standing down 

the old channel toward Sandy Hook. To the 

right were the Navesink Highlands, ending 

abruptly in the low spit of land that reaches 

northward toward Coney Island. To the left 

was Ambrose Channel, marked on both sides by 

buoys that at night make the entrance to New 

York the best lighted in the world. Ahead of 

them the Atlantic Ocean stretched wide and in- 

54 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 55 

viting, her undulating surface dotted with the 
black silhouettes of approaching and departing 
liners. 

Such a perfect day as this was needed for the 
start of the Sea Bird’s expedition, for though 
hearts are brave and hope runs high, threatening 
weather will cast a pall over any maritime under¬ 
taking. As it was, the boys felt just a tingle of 
anxiety as the yawl dipped her nose to meet the 
first of the rollers that came tumbling in from 
the broad Atlantic. But she took it bravely, 
threw a shower of diamond-like drops from her 
bows, and poised watchfully for the next one. 

“Hm,” said Jim, who was as keen a sailor as 
his brother when there was wind enough to fill 
the sails, “she’s well named. A sea bird if there 
ever was one. Meets the rollers as if she liked 
it, and lies over to the wind like a gull in a storm.” 

“Oh, she’s there,” declared Phil, “but any boat 
could sail on a day like this. Cracky! Isn’t 
it a wonder?” 

“If you mean to ask me,” put in Tom, “I ’ll 
say it is. . . . But now that I ’ve felt the motion 
I still say bring on your gales.” 


56 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

“Don’t ever ask for ’em, Tom,” said Jim, 
“ ’cause they come without an invitation. Al¬ 
ways enjoy what you have and fear the worst.” 

This was excellent advice, and Tom knew it. 
Glancing aloft at the taut canvas he realized that 
if the worst did come he would be totally unpre¬ 
pared to do his part. So, although the warmth 
of the sunshine urged him to stretch out on deck 
and loaf, he asked Phil for a first practical les¬ 
son in seamanship. 

The Sea Bird was now clear of Sandy Hook 
and, under Phil’s guidance, was heading for Scot¬ 
land Light-Vessel. As she drew away from the 
Jersey shore the water deepened and the rollers 
lengthened out into a lazy swell that was hardly 
noticeable to her crew. The sea stretched away 
on three sides, but it seemed so placid and kindly 
that the boys’ involuntary thrill of excitement on 
leaving sheltered waters gave place to a feeling 
of deep contentment. 

Phil took Tom in hand and instructed him first 
in steering by the compass. 

“There’s a knack to it,” he explained, “that 
comes with experience. But first you’ve got 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 57 

to remember that the north point or whatever 
point of the compass you ’re steering for seems to 
swing opposite to the bow of the boat. The fact 
that you put your tiller to port to steer to star¬ 
board, and that sometimes a wave will stop your 
bow when it ought to be swinging, makes it dif¬ 
ficult to remember this. But if you don’t re¬ 
member it you ’ll steer all over the ocean, jibe, 
and get yourself into a peck of trouble. Now 
try it.” 

Tom took the tiller, and found immediately 
that steering for a fixed object and sailing by an 
oscillating compass-card are entirely different 
matters. Try as he would, he could not keep 
the lubber-line (a white line on the compass, 
which marks the ship’s head) on the point that 
Phil had been steering. 

“You ’re nervous,” said Phil; “let me show you 
something.” 

So saying, he took the tiller from his shipmate 
and let it fall into a notched rack fastened to the 
deck just forward of the rudder-post. Instantly 
the boat fell off the wind a point. 

“Now,” said Phil, “if we wanted to let her, 


58 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

she’d sail that point until the wind changed. 
But we want to come close to the lightship, and 
so we take in a little on the mizzen-sheet. This 
makes the mizzen-sail or, jigger resist the wind 
a little more and shoves the stern to leeward, 
which pulls the bow up. By slacking off the 
jib-sheet a hair to make the jib less effective, we 
balance the two sails, and the result is that the 
Sea Bird sails herself.” 

Tom was overcome with astonishment when 
he saw, that left to herself, the yawl sailed bet¬ 
ter than he could sail her. “Will all boats do 
that?” he asked. 

“Almost any yawl will on a smooth day if 
you ’ll take the trouble to trim the sheets just 
right. . . . Now let’s put the log over so that 
we can see how fast we ’re going.” 

Lunch-time came and went unnoticed, for al¬ 
though the boys were not physically affected by 
the motion, food seemed to all of them an un¬ 
necessary indulgence. Scotland Light-Vessel 
was brought abeam and left astern, and through¬ 
out the afternoon Phil and Jim alternated at the 
watch while Tom sat by and asked questions. 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 59 

Trying again to steer by compass, the knack sud¬ 
denly came to him, and he felt that he had made 
his first big step toward becoming a mariner. 
In the late afternoon when left to himself on 
deck he successfully brought the the boat about 
unaided, and rightly considered that he had 
taken a second long step. 

But he was still the reverse of weather-wise, 
and it would be weeks before he could forecast 
conditions from the look of sky and clouds. 
Along toward sundown, while Phil slept in his 
bunk and Jim opened up cans of chowder and 
went through the other motions of preparing 
the evening meal, Tom sang out: 

“Jim, I wish you’d come up a minute and look 
at the clouds in the west. The colors beat any¬ 
thing I ever saw, and if I could get that shade 
of green down in my sketch-book I’d call this 
a banner day.” 

“Shade of green,” exclaimed Jim derisively. 
“Boy, you ’re color-blind. It’s red you look for 
in the western sky.” 

“Just take a look. There’s red there, too, 
but there’s green as well, and the clouds are tak- 


60 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

mg the most sketchable shapes I have ever seen.” 

Jim came to the hatchway and looked. “Holy 
mackerel!” he shouted. “Phil, come topside and 
look at this infernal mess. There’s wind every¬ 
where!” 

“I ’ll say there is,” cried Phil, bounding up 
from the cabin, his hair tousled from sleeping, 
but his eyes wide-awake. “Lend a hand with the 
mainsail.” 

“No call for getting excited, Phil,” Jim 
drawled; “Tom here would like to get his paints 
and make a sunset study before lowering the 
sail. He likes the colors.” 

“Tom doesn’t understand,” Phil began, and 
then stopped, struck by a note of sarcasm in his 
brother’s voice. “Now see here, Jim, I have n’t 
time to argue with you, but I want to tell you 
just this. Tom’s green—” 

“That’s what he likes about the sky,” snapped 
Jim. 

“—but he’s willing to do his part. There are 
only three of us aboard this packet, and if we 
want to keep friends we’ve got to cut out the 
digs and the cheap sarcasm. That goes from 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 61 

now right until we reach Norfolk. Do you get 
me?” 

“I get that it’s you and Tom against me in a 
row, if that’s what you mean,” growled Jim. 

Phil, seeing that Jim’s usual amiability had 
been lost in sudden irritation, and realizing that 
further words would only make matters worse, 
replied: “Let it go at that. . . . We’ll douse 
the sail while there’s still daylight.” 

Tom had wisely kept out of the flare-up of 
which he had been the unwitting cause, and he 
now turned to with a vim which showed that he 
knew perfectly well when it was time to paint 
or not to paint. Jim, after a bit, served supper 
in the cockpit, and the three boys, balancing 
their plates on their knees and acclaiming the 
warmth and flavor of the chowder, soon resumed 
their cordiality. Indeed the incident was all but 
forgotten in the succeeding hours—hours which 
were to try their mettle, and in the end change 
from odd to even the number of the Sea Bird's 
complement. 


CHAPTER VI 


T HE day’s run of the Sea Bird had been ex¬ 
ceedingly good. The mild wind, blowing 
from a little south of east, had bowled her steadily 
down the coast, and the patent log, trailing from 
the stern, showed an hourly average of seven 
knots from the time of leaving Scotland Light- 
Vessel. More than once during the day Tom had 
computed the remaining distance to Delaware 
Breakwater (an artificial harbor at the mouth 
of the Delaware River) and declared regretfully 
that they would be in sheltered water before the 
next morning was far advanced. He liked the 
freedom of ocean cruising and almost dreaded 
the necessity for proceeding between the banks 
of rivers and canals. 

His shipmates, however, had been uniformly 

pessimistic about the chances of making their 

goal so easily. They were no more eager than 

he to go inside, but their experience in cruis- 

62 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 63 

ing had been that the wind either blows harder 
or not at all when predictions of the exact time 
of arrival are made. Tom could call it super¬ 
stition if he liked: Phil said that the sea was out 
to please nobody but herself and hated 
prophecies. Tom had objected to this. 

“Look, Phil,” he had said: “We had a hun¬ 
dred and thirty-five miles to go, and in seven 
hours we have covered fifty miles. It’s cer¬ 
tainly reasonable to think that we can do the 
other eighty-five in the next sixteen hours.” 

To which Phil had replied: “Sure, it’s rea¬ 
sonable. But if the wind dies this minute and 
stays dead for sixteen hours we ’ll do nothing 
flat. Never get anywhere at that speed.” 

Nevertheless, by sundown, the Sea Bird , work¬ 
ing well offshore, had dropped Barnegat Light¬ 
house below the horizon and was bringing the 
tall buildings of Atlantic City abreast. With 
the mainsail furled, the yawl’s speed had dropped 
to about four miles an hour, but the wind was 
shifting to northeast and steadily freshening, 
and neither of the other boys doubted Phil’s wis¬ 
dom in reducing sail. 


64 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

In fact, the sky looked anything but promis¬ 
ing. The greenish tinge that had aroused Jim’s 
laughter had given place to a dull pink hue 
that illumined the east as well as the west, and 
the sun had dropped from sight behind black 
clouds when still nearly an hour high. Although 
the wind was coming from the northeast, there 
were low patches of nimbus, or rain-clouds, car¬ 
eering madly from south to north, while high up 
in the heavens the last spots of blue sky were be¬ 
ing obscured by heavy cumulus. Mare’s-tails, 
curious detached wisps of vapor, rolled along 
with the wind, and in several places high rain¬ 
storms, which were whipped to pieces before 
they struck the sea, could be seen streaming 
down. This much the crew of the Sea Bird ob¬ 
served before darkness closed in. 

Phil did not like it and said so frankly. 
“Jim,” he ordered, “make things shipshape be¬ 
low and then get some sleep. We ’re in for a 
razzle-dazzle to-night if we ever were, and it ’ll 
be two men on watch all the time. ‘I ’ll need 
you when it gets worse. Tom, take the tiller 
now while I secure things on deck.” 


65 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

So saying he picked up the end of the mizzen- 
sheet, a piece of three-quarter-inch-diameter 
line, and with it firmly lashed the main-boom to 
its crutch and to cleats in the deck. “If that ever 
lets go,” he observed carelessly to Tom, “it’s 
good night shirt; but the extra lashings will hold 
it.” Next he doubled-lashed the dinghy, a light 
ten-foot rowboat that lay half on its side along 
the starboard waist-deck, and reinforced the lan¬ 
yards that held the anchors snug in their 
chocks. He lighted the binnacle and the run¬ 
ning lamps, stowed mooring-lines and cushions 
in the locker abaft the cockpit well, and then, 
glancing around, declared that he would “let 
her flicker.” 

“It may be nothing at all, Tom,” he said, “but 
you can’t ever tell, and as Jim said this morning 
it’s best to fear the worst; in other words, be 
prepared for anything. Now I wish you’d keep 
the deck for a few minutes while I go below and 
look up the description of Delaware Break¬ 
water, and figure on tides and so on. Sing out 
if you want me.” 

A moment later he appeared in the com- 


66 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

panion way with Tom’s oilers. “Put ’em on 
now,” he suggested with a gr,in. ‘‘They some¬ 
times keep the rain away.” 

Tom, achieving the almost impossible feat of 
watching the compass, minding the tiller, and 
balancing on one leg while he thrust the other 
through his oiled trousers, experienced a sud¬ 
den thrill of exhilaration. “This is living,” he 
murmured happily to himself. 

In truth, life appeared to him brimful and 
overflowing. Despite Phil’s rather dismal atti¬ 
tude toward the future, there was an air, of 
knowledge and assurance about him that filled 
Tom with confidence. The lights of Atlantic 
City, now twinkling through the gloaming, 
seemed friendly, and the wind, sighing gustily 
through the rigging, had a companionable sound. 
Feeling the sting of salt spray on his weather 
cheek, he looked shoreward and thought pity¬ 
ingly of the poor landsmen who did not know 
what it was to be free. 

As the minutes went by, the wind gradually 
freshened, but as the Sea Bird was running 
partly before it its effect was not greatly notice- 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 67 

able to the watcher on the deck of the yawl. 
Occasionally a wave, rolling up on the port quar¬ 
ter, crested and hissed ominously as it came 
within reaching distance of the yawl, but it 
passed harmlessly beneath her and silently 
slipped away to starboard. The mainsail be¬ 
ing lowered, the motion was easy, and Tom con¬ 
stantly had the sensation of being cradled in an 
infinite sea of mist, with neither time nor space 
to connect him with the world he knew. 

Presently Phil joined him in the cockpit, sit¬ 
ting down .heavily as the yawl’s stern rose and 
knocked him off his balance. His eyes becom¬ 
ing accustomed to the darkness, he glanced 
around and aloft and remarked: “It’s getting 
thick, and I guess even our oilers won’t keep the 
rain off very much longer. Wind’s blowing up, 
too.” 

Tom said simply, “I like it.” 

Phil peered at him from beneath the brim of 
his sou’wester, and, being satisfied with what he 
saw on his friend’s glowing countenance, smiled 
slightly and said to himself, “You ’ll do.” Aloud 
he said: “I ’ll relieve you, old man, and I wish 


68 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

you’d drop down and have a look at the chart. 
Might as well know what we ’re running into. 
Don’t wake Jim.” 

When Tom reappeared he was able to talk 
more or less intelligently with his skipper about 
the yawl’s position and the possibilities of the 
future. “I see,” he remarked, “that you’ve 
checked where we were at seven o’clock. That 
makes us about thirty miles from the mouth of 
the Delaware, does n’t it?” 

“Yes,” replied Phil absently, his eyes glued 
to the dimly lighted compass-card, but his 
thoughts elsewhere. 

“And if we can make five miles an hour we 
ought to get to the breakwater by two in the 
morning?” Tom questioned. 

“Right,” said Phil, arousing himself, “and this 
is one case where you can safely predict our time 
of arrival—for the simple reason that it’s the 
worst possible time.” 

“How do you make that out, Phil? Can’t we 
run right in, anchor, and sleep till daylight?” 

“It sounds easy, Tom, when you say it fast. 
But when I looked in the Tide-Tables I found 


69 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

that it is high tide at the breakwater at midnight. 
That means that from then on until nearly six 
in the morning all the water in Delaware Bay 
is going to try to run out past Cape May. The 
wind’s blowing across it, and even if it does n’t 
get any stiffer the approach to the breakwater 
is going to be the bumpiest place you ever saw. 
What’s more, I’ve never entered a strange har¬ 
bor at night, and I don’t mind telling you that 
I’m scared of it. From the description in the 
Coast Pilot it does n’t sound easy, and it’s not 
much good for a small boat when you get in 
there.” 

“How about going into Cape May Harbor, 
then? That’s nearer.” 

“And worse. Have n’t you ever read of the 
fishermen that get capsized going into these New 
Jersey inlets? They know the way, which is 
more than I do, and yet every now and then 
the waves break all the way across, and they 
swamp. They have to get in, but we don’t.” 

“Then,” asked Tom, “what are you going to 
do?” 

“I feel this way about it. As long as we have 


70 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

plenty of sea-room we ’re all right no matter 
how rough it gets. But if I make a mistake in 
a tight place”—Phil’s shoulders shrugged 
slightly—“it’s finish cruise. ... If it gets worse 
I want to run for it.” 

Tom rested his hand a moment on the skip¬ 
per’s knee. “You ’re the doctor, Phil. I sup¬ 
pose if we do run for it, we can get back all 
right when she stops blowing.” 

“There’s the delay, of course. Mother will 
worry when this wind whistles down the chim¬ 
ney at home. . . . However,, we can decide 
later.” 

As he spoke, the first big drops of rain came, 
and the wind veered slightly as if surprised by 
the downpour. Phil glanced quickly up at the 
yacht ensign which had been left flying from 
the mizzen-truck to do dutv as a weather-vane, 
and shifted the rudder. 

“You ’ll think me a gloom-bird, all right,” he 
exclaimed, “but it’s beginning to get my goat.” 

Thereafter the two boys sat side by side, peer¬ 
ing silently ahead. The night was of almost inky 
blackness, and the only familiar objects visible 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 71 

were the white jigger-sail with the seemingly 
black ensign fluttering out before it, the binnacle, 
the slit of light coming from the cabin hatch, 
and the sickly glare of the running-lights on the 
jib. The rain, whipped by the wind, beat 
against their backs, and the wind, seemingly en¬ 
couraged by the rain, buffeted and blustered un¬ 
til the turnbuckles in the shrouds whistled a 
shrill defiance. The balance-stick of the taff- 
rail log spun busily, and the dial when read by 
the light of a pocket-flash, showed a gain of 
fifteen miles in the three hours that had slowly 
worn around since sunset. 

The flares of lighthouses—Ludlam Beach, 
Hereford Inlet, and finally Cape May—were 
visible through the falling rain; but to these Phil 
paid scant attention. He was steering for the 
small occulting white buoy on McCries Shoal, 
and he knew enough of the sea not to strain his 
eyes looking for it until he had come within a 
reasonable distance. Tom yawned cavernously 
from time to time, and at length Phil suggested 
that he wake Jim and take his place on the lee 
bunk. 


72 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

“I’m going to try to stick it out all night, but 
there’s no reason why you should n’t get a little 
sleep. You may need it later,” was Phil’s way 
of putting it. 

•So Tom went below, and when Jim turned out 
and climbed into his oilers, Tom took up his 
dreams where Jim had dropped them. 

Two hours had barely passed when he was 
awakened into full consciousness. The motion 
of the boat had changed, and, instead of the long, 
cushioned roll of a loaded hay-wagon, it now re¬ 
sembled the bucking of a bronco. The sound 
of rushing water within a few inches of his head, 
sharp voices on deck, the deep crash of waves 
against the bow—these noises of a rough night 
filled him with alarm. Rolling out of his bunk 
he found that he could not keep his feet on the 
tilting deck. Pots rattled in the galley, the smell 
of disturbed bilge-water filled his nostrils, and he 
became acutely conscious that he wanted air. 

Sliding the hatch bajck, he was met full in the 
face by a shower of flying spray, and he dropped 
below to brave seasickness and clothe himself in 
waterproofs. None too soon he reached the 



THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 73 

deck, and, breathing heavily like a fish out of 
water, cleared his brain and settled his unruly 
stomach. Phil, holding Tom with calm, steady¬ 
ing hands, laughed heartily. 

Tom plumped down beside him on the stream¬ 
ing deck and looked at him in amazement. Here 
was a new Phil, a hearty, care-free Phil who 
could laugh when it seemed to Tom’s bewildered 
senses that the yawl was sinking. 

“Wh-what’s the matter?” he gasped. “I 
thought I was a goner.” 

“Nothing whatever the matter. Jim agreed 
with me that we ought n’t to try to make harbor, 
and here we are running for it. McCries Shoal 
Buoy is astern of us, and we ’re taking the wind 
almost on the beam. We feel it more, and it’s 
rougher than the very dickens; but, man dear, 
we ’re making knots. Six of ’em under nothing 
but jib and jigger. And the harder it blows 
the faster we ’ll travel.” 

Jim, who was sitting on the weather side of 
the cockpit well, his feet braced firmly against 
the opposite side and the tiller held on his knees, 
let out a yell of sheer joy that was caught up by 


74 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

the wind and hurled into space. : ‘You ought to 
have seen Phil half an hour ago, Tom,” he 
shouted, “before he decided to run for it. He 
was that glum I thought he was going to throw 
a fit. Now that there ’s nothing but Fenwick 
Light-Vessel between us and the south pole he’s 
as happy as a clam.” 

Tom caught the infection of his words and 
in a measure recovered his own light-heartedness. 
But this was a different sort of sailing, and he 
was not altogether sure that he liked it. The 
main-boom, against which he braced himself, 
throbbed with the vibration of the wind in the 
jib, and the sea licked up to the boat and under 
it with fiendish malice. The first roller that 
broke full on the beam and half filled the cock¬ 
pit forced his heart up into his throat; and when, 
looking forward, he saw the white foam flying 
up the jib as the bowsprit ducked under, he ex¬ 
perienced the helpless sensation that he had felt 
on his first night aboard the Sea Bird . Sup¬ 
pose he should be required to lie out on the bow¬ 
sprit. Would he be equal to it? He shivered 
slightly and admitted to himself that he did not 
know. 


CHAPTER VII 


T HE ship’s clock in the cabin, tinkling 
steadfastly above the noise of wind and 
sea, slowly tolled out the time, and with each 
passing half-hour the storm grew worse. Rain- 
clouds, blacker than the night itself, coursed 
madly overhead, seeming to brush the main- 
truck in passing, and bringing with them mad¬ 
dening gaps of calms and infuriating gusts of 
wind. Wave after wave broke against the side 
of the Sea Bird , and in time the spirits of the 
Stevenson brothers, no less than Tom’s, were 
quenched by the constant deluge of icy water. 
By three in the morning the boys sat in a dismal 
row on the windward side of the cockpit, backs 
to the pouring rain, heads sunk into their shoul¬ 
ders, and their entire bodies dripping water. 
They spoke little and moved only to relieve one 
another at the helm. 

Steering the Sea Bird under these conditions 

75 


76 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

was no child’s play. They were sailing full and 
by, or nearly across the wind, and the strain of 
the tiller tortured the muscles of the wrists until 
each cord and ligament seemed bathed in liquid 
lire. But even steering was preferable to the 
dumb agony of sitting in idleness, waiting for 
the next crash of water against the ship’s plank¬ 
ing. 

“Do you think she ’ll stand it?” Tom shouted 
into Phil’s ear. 

“She’s got to,” Phil replied. “That’s all I 
can say.” 

And then, when it seemed that the night had 
dealt them a full measure of discomfort, Jim 
glanced ahead and saw white water. 

“Breakers,” he yelled. “Phil, we ’re on the 
beach!” 

“We can’t be,” Phil retorted, glancing at the 
compass for confirmation of the course. Never¬ 
theless, fear, for the first time that night, gripped 
his heart. The Sea Bird could live through a 
storm at sea, but breakers spelled her death. 
He threw the hatch open and fell below to con¬ 
sult the chart. Before he could reclose the 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 77 

hatch the crest of a wave followed him down, 
and the cabin was in darkness. 

Not so the sea about the yawl. White water 
—menacing, curling waves—now surged all 
about her, and the night was lit with the ghoulish 
illumination of phosphorus. The Sea Bird 
careened and staggered in the turmoil. Her lee 
rail constantly under water, her entire deck was 
repeatedly swept by breaking waves, coming 
now from the stern and now from abeam. 
But still she drove on. 

Tom, his breath gone, his senses bewildered, 
glanced over his shoulder and in horror saw the 
green back of a comber forming, climbing, tower¬ 
ing above him. “Watch her!” he cried, and de¬ 
spairingly hugged the boom. 

For minutes it seemed, for centuries even, he 
closed his eyes and held his breath while the 
breaking wave boiled over him, clutching at his 
legs, sucking at his body. Then the flood sub¬ 
sided, and he looked around. Unharmed, the 
Sea Bird was righting herself, spouting water 
from every deck scupper,. But—Tom’s heart 
stopped beating—he was alone in the cockpit. 



78 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

“Jim, Jim!” he called, “where are you?” 
There was no answer. 

Tom flung himself at the tiller and jammed it 
down. In an agony of suspense he searched the 
sea to leeward and saw no black speck to relieve 
the phosphorescent glow. Could Jim, weighed 
down by his oilers, have sunk without a struggle ? 
It seemed incredible, for Jim was a water-dog, 
with a heart of steel. And yet— 

Hope had left Tom when he glanced astern. 
And there, far away, he descried the head and 
shoulders of his shipmate. “Phil, help!” he 
called, but his words were blown away, and Tom 
knew that he must rescue Jim unaided. Would 
the yawl never head up into the wind ? Had he 
the ability to come about and return for Jim? 
If desire could only take the place of skill! 

Watching now the jib, the intensity of Tom’s 
despair was suddenly cut by the realization that 
white water no longer lay ahead of him. The 
yawl was through the worst of it. “But what 
good,” he thought, “when Jim ’s back there.” 

It seemed years, but it was seconds only, that 
Tom waited in heart-rending inaction for the 


79 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

yawl to come into stays. And then the jib flut¬ 
tered, and the Sea Bird poised. Tom looked 
astern again and gasped in downright amaze¬ 
ment. Instead of the empty waste that he had 
expected and dreaded, his eyes were met by the 
sight of Jim closer to the boat than when first he 
had seen him. Slowly the boy was drawing in, 
drawing away from the breakers. Unused as 
Tom was to the sea, he knew that until the mo¬ 
ment of coming into stays the yawl had kept her 
headway and that Jim, excellent swimmer 
though he was, could not equal her speed of six 
knots. For an instant he was nonplussed. 

And then he found the key to the mystery. 
A violent agitation of the log-line told him that 
by miraculous chance Jim had caught the line 
and was hauling himself in by it. No need now 
to bring the yawl about. The urgent necessity 
was to help Jim. Shouting to him to hold tight, 
Tom grasped the slender line, supported his 
back against the mizzen-shrouds, and pulled with 
all his might. 

As if to mock his efforts, the line, slipping 
through Jim’s numbed hands, came free; and 


80 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

Tom realized that he was battling for a life that, 
cold and exhausted, was nearly spent. 

“Hold on, Jim,” he shouted; “I’ll take it 
easy.” 

So, foot by foot, carefully lest he snatch the 
line from Jim’s nerveless grasp, Tom hauled his 
burden in. At the last, as Jim’s floundering 
body came under the yawl’s counter, his own 
strength almost left him, but, by throwing him¬ 
self across the bumpkin and waiting for the after 
deck to dip flush with the turbulent water, he 
pulled his almost unconscious shipmate aboard. 

“Thanks, Tom,” said Jim weakly, when Tom 
had hauled him to the cockpit well and braced 

him there; “I was about finished when you saw 
” 

me. 

“I’m not so darned fit myself,” said Tom. 
“You ’re the biggest fish I ever caught.” 

Compounded of relief and exhaustion, a fan¬ 
tastic thought occurred to him. “Do you know, 
Jim,” he said, “you made such a good picture 
out there, I almost stopped to paint you.” 

“Oh, you artist,” was Jim’s faint response. 
Phil’s voice aroused both boys from the half- 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 81 

stupor in which shock and exertion had left them. 
“What’s this?” he shouted. “We ’re hove to, 
and the jib ’s whipping to pieces.” 

“Nothing,” said Jim, “except that I took a 
swim and Tom had to help me out.” 

“Washed overboard, you mean? . . . Well, 
I ’ll be. I stayed below to light the lamp and 
then pump out after that big fellow, and I did n’t 
know you were in trouble.” 

“Did you find out what those breakers were, 
Phil?” asked Tom. 

“Yes, that was the foot of Five Fathom Bank, 
where the sea breaks in a gale. We ’re through 
the worst of it and in deep water again, but we ’re 
not out of the woods yet.” While speaking he 
pulled up the tiller, which, during this interval, 
had been left idle in its rack, and found that there 
was no response to the movement of the rudder. 

“It’s as I thought,” he said; “the foot of the 
jib has carried away from the boom. I ’ll have 
to unbend it and bend on the storm-jib. Jim, 
you’d better get below and rub down with a dry 
towel.” 

Because of the fact that the Sea Bird was now 


82 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

making no headway, but was, instead, drifting 
with the wind, the storm seemed to have lessened 
its fury. Waves no longer broke aboard. 

“I suppose,” said Jim, as Tom helped him be¬ 
low, “that we’d ride easier if we remained hove 
to. But there’s the danger of drifting down to 
Fenwick Shoals and getting in Dutch for fair. 
No more breakers for mine.” 

So also thought the skipper of the yawl, for 
while Jim got himself into dry clothes he quickly 
unbent the torn jib and dropped it to the wet 
floor of the cabin. Tom’s strength had by this 
time so returned that he felt more than equal to 
lending a hand. Straining forward, he found 
that the focus of the picture had changed since 
last he watched the plunging bowsprit. After 
the stress of greater excitement it seemed simple 
to lie out on the slippery plank and clip the hooks 
of the storm-jib to the forestay. But his offer 
of help was declined by Phil. 

“No,” he said, “this is the skipper’s job. 
You ’ve done your part to-night.” 

So, clambering aft again, Tom huddled up in 
the cockpit. He was presently joined by Jim, 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 83 

and the two talked fitfully, mouth to ear, more 
firmly cementing a friendship that had been 
sealed by Tom’s rescue of his shipmate. 

With the storm-jib drawing, the Sea Bird tore 
on through the night, Jim at length able to take 
his turn at the tiller. The storm had slackened 
in its intensity, but that it was not yet through 
playing with them was suddenly revealed to Phil. 
The binnacle-lamp had been doused by the en¬ 
gulfing wave, but by the intermittent flashes of 
his pocket-light on the compass-card Phil saw 
that they were unable to hold the course that he 
had been steering for Fenwick Light-Vessel. 

For a time he wrestled with this perversity of 
the yawl, and then he gave up and let her sail as 
she would. “Here’s what’s the matter,” he ex¬ 
plained. “There’s not enough area in that 
pocket-handkerchief to counteract the pressure 
on the mizzen. She simply won’t do anything 
but hug the wind.” 

“Couldn’t you reef the mizzen?” asked Tom. 

“No reef-points on that sail,” was Phil’s reply. 

“Well,” volunteered Jim, “we can come about 
and take the other tack after a bit.” 


84 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

“No,” was Phil’s objection, “she won’t come 
about, either. I tried it when I bent the sail on. 
We happened to fall away on the right tack or 
we’d be steering now in the general direction of 
Atlantic City. And I’m afraid to jibe even the 
mizzen in this wind.” 

“We could bring her about with the motor, 
though,” said Jim. 

“Yes, we might do that, but let’s run along 
on this tack till daylight.” 

“Suits me,” said Jim. “I don’t know where 
we ’re going, but we ’re on our way.” 

This conversation, carried on laboriously above 
the rush of the wind, sufficed the boys for sev¬ 
eral minutes, and dawn was breaking when Tom 

« 

next broke his silence. 

“I see a light,” he exclaimed. “There, dead 
ahead. Do you get it? It’s gone. No, there 
it is again.” 

“Sure enough,” cried Phil. “Now what do 
you suppose that is? Doesn’t look like a ship, 
and it can’t be Fenwick. Me for the chart 
again.” 

Returning in a moment from his consultation 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 85 

of the chart he observed: “It can’t be anything. 
There’s nothing on the chart.” 

But Jim declared: “Looks like a flashing 
buoy. We might as well make for it.” 

Broadening daylight lost the flash from view, 
but the yawl kept on under a slowly slackening 
wind, and in three hours they were within seeing 
distance of the buoy. 

“Beats anything I ever saw,” said Phil. “It’s 
a big sea buoy, but it’s a funny-looking one, 
and, anyway, it hasn’t any business to be out 
here.” 

In truth, as the Sea Bird drew still closer to 
the buoy, it presented the most curious sight that 
any of the boys had ever beheld. It was a con¬ 
ventional deep-sea buoy of the lighted kind, a 
huge affair about twenty feet in height by eight 
across, but, wrapped around the lattice-work 
which supported the light, were strips of gray- 
blue canvas, and from the lamp itself dangled 
at a rakish angle a flag that might once have 
been a red undershirt. The words “Key West,” 
painted in white on the black groundwork of the 
buoy, were visible. 


86 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

“ ‘Key West,’ ” quoted Jim. “Why, that’s 
in Florida. I knew we made knots last night, 
but I did n’t think we’d come a thousand miles.” 

“I’ve got it,” said Phil; “it’s a drifting buoy, 
cast loose by some storm, and carried north by 
the Gulf Stream. But why all the fancy dec¬ 
orations on it?” 

“Looks,” said Tom, “like somebody’s happy 
home.” 

As if in answer to his words, the head and 
shoulders of a man appeared above the canvas 
dodger. 

“Haha!” cried Jim. “Friend Callaway pops 
up at the close of the storm. He said he’d get 
you yet, Tom.” 

But Jim’s guess was wrong. The yawl had 
now come within heaving-distance of the buoy, 
and the head was seen to be that of a man of 
fifty, grizzled and gray. Humorous eyes twin¬ 
kled at the boys from beneath shaggy eyebrows, 
and a wide, generous mouth, fringed by a stub¬ 
ble of beard, opened in speech. 

“Come to the starboard gangway, boys,” said 
the castaway; “I ’ll pipe the side for you.” 



The Sea Bird speaks the castaway on the buoy 













CHAPTER VIII 


A N hour later the three boys ushered the 
castaway into the cabin of the Sea Bird 
and followed him below. It had been an hour 
of manoeuvering, first under sail, and then, 
when it was proved useless to try to handle her 
with the storm-jib, under power. The wind, 
quickly falling, had at length died away alto¬ 
gether, but the sea still climbed into rounded, 
surly mountains. Getting near enough to the 
huge buoy for the man to jump aboard had been 
difficult, but, after the third or fourth attempt, 
Phil had accomplished it without mishap. Jim 
now shut off the motor, and the four sat down 
wearily. 

“Nice, roomy quarters,” observed the stranger. 

“Four bunks, I see, and a coal-stove in the 

galley. Motor under the ladder, and everything 

hunky. Trim little ship.” 

“Better than the buoy,” said Phil. “How 

long had you been there?” 

87 


88 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

“Oh, a matter of two days. How do you hap¬ 
pen to be out here?” 

“Wanted sea-room,” said Jim. “Blew some, 
did n’t it?” 

“Seventy miles an hour by my patented shirt- 
tail anemometer,” said the man, a grin begin¬ 
ning at the corners of his wide mouth. He with¬ 
drew his wandering gaze from the furnishings of 
the cabin and looked at each of the three boys in 
turn. 

“Well, I snum,” he declared. “You ’re all of 
you fagged plumb out. You been up all night?” 

The boys nodded. 

“Well, I don’t mean to poke myself in where 
I’m not wanted, but it strikes me youd better 
get some sleep. I ’ll watch the ship—can’t run 
away with her in this calm—and light the fire 
and dry you out down here. Everything— 
cushions, clothes, and all—is wetter than scat. 
What do you say?” 

“Oh, I’m all right,” Phil started to say, but 
Tom interrupted him with: “No, you’re not, 
Phil. You ’ve hardly slept at all since yester¬ 
day morning. I say we turn in.” 


THE SEA BIRD S QUEST 89 

“Suits me,” said Jim; and, in fact, it suited 
them all so well that they wrapped blankets 
around their wet clothes and fell off to sleep 
without bothering to find out who the new arrival 
was. Phil did put the question, but was satis¬ 
fied to be turned off with the remark that it was 
a long story. 

That the stranger was more than disposed to 
be friendly was evidenced by his activities aboard 
the yawl while her crew slept. He soon had a 
hot fire in the galley, over which he boiled him¬ 
self a pot of coffee; and then, observing a patch 
of sunlight coming through the open hatchway, 
he climbed up and down the ladder carrying wet 
things out on deck to air. He swabbed the slip¬ 
pery cabin-deck, pumped out the bilge, rum¬ 
maged around in a locker until he found sailor’s 
palm, needle, and twine, and then sewed an em¬ 
ergency repair on the torn jib. This he sub¬ 
stituted for the storm-sail. 

Although the air still remained stagnant, the 
sea continued its restless heaving, and the 
man displayed his familiarity with boats by his 
perfect balance and surefootedness as much as by 


J 


90 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

his handiwork. He moved quickly, skilfully, oc¬ 
casionally humming to himself. 

It was well past noon when he had attended 
to all the things that seemed most pressing, and 
then he explored the food-locker until he found 
in a glass jar the prepared flour for flapjacks. 
When the coffee had again been brought to boil, 
he went from one boy to the next, and, in the 
time-honored way of waking sleeping sailors, laid 
gnarled hands on the arm and shoulder of each 
in turn, arousing them to consciousness. 

“Your Java’s ready,” he announced. “And 
flapjacks. They ’ll put hair on your chest.” 

Food. It was the first the boys had eaten in 
more than eighteen hours, and they fell to with 
keen delight. Comments on the dangers of the 
past night, expressions of thanks for the welcome 
breakfast, and conjectures as to the coming 
weather flew from one to another, and finally 
when their plates were wiped clean they sat back 
and asked the stranger for his story. 

Drawing a blackened pipe from one pocket 
and a self-closing pouch from another, he filled 


THE SEA BIRD S QUEST 91 

the bowl and rammed the tobacco down with 
his thumb. Then, taking a match from the gal¬ 
ley, he leaned against the bulkhead, lighted his 
pipe, and glanced about. 

‘‘Did n’t any of you see my gig last night, did 
you?” he asked of the cabin at large. 

“Your gig?” 

“Yes, my admiral’s barge, or whatever you caL 
it. My dinghy, in short. Went adrift from my 
ship in the night.” 

He laughed heartily as he observed the ex¬ 
pressions of wonderment on the faces of the boys. 

“No use of mystifying you any longer,” he 
continued; “I ’ll tell you about it. 

“Name is Frank Smithers, and they call me 
Smith ’cause it’s so uncommon. I’ve been 
sailing boatswain on one of the Dominion Liners 
out of Norfolk. Hpld third mate’s papers, but 
times is hard and a feller takes what he can get. 

“Ahem. ... We were coming into Norfolk 
three days ago when the weather looked ugly and 
the mate told me to secure one of the small boats 
that had worked loose in its fastenings. I dumb 


92 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

into the boat—it was a life-boat, secured for, sea 
(swung out, you know, for quick lowering)— J 
and the fust thing I knowed the falls give way, 
and I was in the water, boat and all. Just then 
it come on to rain like hell, and I plumb lost 
sight of the ship. ’T was growing dark, and 
they proberly give me up for gone after looking 
about for a coupla hours. Anyway, they did n’t 
find me, and I shipped a pair of oars and started 
to row for North America. 

“Ever, row a life-boat single-handed to North 
America, boys? It’s hard work. I was about 
played out when I seen a flashing light. ‘Hello,’ 
I says, ‘that must be the buoy off Cape Henry,’ 
but I knowed all the time that it could n’t be, as 
we was about fifty miles north of Norfolk when 
I went over. 

“However, I rowed on, and before long I 
seen it was a drifting buoy. Weather was n’t 
real bad then, y’ understand, and so I dumb 
aboard and took my emergency rations and 
water-breaker with me. Said I to myself: 
‘Some one else will see this buoy and come close 
to investigate. Best chanct I have of being 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 93 

picked up. Meanwhile, I ’ll get things ship¬ 
shape.’ 

“So I yanked the thwarts out of the life-boat 
and lashed me a platform on the buoy to lie on, 
and then I closed it in with the canvas that was 
in the boat. And there I was. You ’re the fust 
ship that sighted me.” 

The boys’ eyes glistened with the novelty of 
this story. 

“But wasn’t it rough on the buoy?” asked 
Tom, naturally thinking of the Sea Bird's ex¬ 
perience. 

“Rough? Well, I should say so. Got so bad 
last night that I lashed myself head downward 
to the cage, and half the time I was lying on my 
side, and half the time I was right side up with 
care.” 

Smith—to call him by his nickname—paused 
to observe the effect of this shot on his listeners 
and then declared laughingly: “No, that’s 
warping the truth a trifle. But the rest of it’s 
true enough. Now, where, if you don’t mind my 
asking, are you sailing this ocean liner? Africa, 
or only to Bermuda?” 



94 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

So Phil told their story and their destination 
and explained his reasons for not wishing to make 
Delaware Breakwater in the storm. 

“Of course,” said Smith, “you might ’a’ run 
up the Delaware River, but it’s bad off Cape 
May, and perhaps it’s just as well you did n’t. 
It is just as well, in fact, ’cause you ’re here and 
I’m here, and there’s no telling where any of us 
would ’a’ been if you had n’t ’ve run for 
it. . . . And now are you figuring on going 
back to the breakwater?” 

“Well,” said Phil, “we really had n’t figured. 
Your coming aboard kind of popped it out of 
our minds. But I suppose we might as well.” 

“Why not go on to Norfolk, since you’ve 
come this far? I judge from what you say that 
we ’re about twenty-five miles east of Fenwick 
Lightship, and it’s about as near to there as it is 
to the breakwater. Besides, we ’re going to get 
more of last night’s blow, and there’s no use of 
bucking into it when we can run with it.” 

Phil considered a moment. His father would 
be anxious already, and he hated to keep him 
waiting longer than necessary for news of the 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 95 

Sea Bird . “What do you say, boys?” he finally 
asked. 

“I say that we go on.” It was Jim speaking. 
“If it’s only a little farther we won’t waste much 
time, and Dad will at least know when we get 
to Norfolk that we haven’t any farther to go.” 

“I’m game,” said Tom. “Maybe your father 
will let us go on to Florida.” 

“Is that what the idea is?” interrupted Smith. 
“If your father should happen to ask me I’d 
tell him that after last night he could trust you 
in any rumpus. It sure did whistle up my 
back.” 

So it was decided. And along toward night¬ 
fall, when the wind blew up again from the same 
quarter, Phil, accepting the advice of Smith, laid 
a course for Cape Charles Light-Vessel. The 
stranger, himself slept during the latter part of 
the afternoon, and the three boys, after preparing 
and eating the evening meal, sat together in the 
cockpit and talked him over. 

“Golly!” Phil summed up. “He’d be a man 
to have with us. He did more to the boat while 
we were asleep than I could have done in a week. 


96 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

And with all his experience I bet he knows the 
sea.” 

“Speaking of the devil”—Smith surprised 
them by appearing on deck—“he does know the 
sea. And he knows what’s under the sea.” 
He smiled a little mysteriously, and, as he had 
done before, glanced from one to another of the 
boys in turn. 

They waited for him to continue. 

Smith did, first spitting carefully to leeward. 
“Did you ever hear of the Spanish Main?” he 
asked. “Gold plate, and pieces of eight, and all 
that?” 

What boy has not heard of “all that,” and 
longed to sail south under the jolly roger? At 
any rate, Tom and the Stevenson brothers had 
all the latest information, and Phil more or less 
voiced the opinion of the three when he said, 
“Yes, I ’ve heard of it, and if I had half the 
money that’s been spent looking for it I’d be a 
millionaire.” 

“Same way as I feel about it,” declared Smith, 
undismayed by the cool reception of his inviting 
query. “But I just mentioned that ong passong , 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 97 

as the Froggies say. Now I knew where a Ger¬ 
many treasure-yacht was sunk in 1918 off the 
Cuban coast, and there’s thousands of gold dol¬ 
lars there for the taking. I ain’t never had the 
chanct to go after it, and wild horses could n’t 
drag the information out of me, but I ’ve got a 
map and a cipher right here on my body, and 
you’ve got a boat. Think it over, and see if that 
means anything to you.” 

He dropped into the cabin again and resumed 
his sleep. 


CHAPTER IX 


S MITH could not have chosen a more dra¬ 
matic way of making his announcement, 
and the boys’ tongues were working full tilt al¬ 
most before his head had touched the pillow. 
Only the knowledge that Mr. Stevenson’s con¬ 
sent was necessary to a treasure-hunting expe¬ 
dition restrained them from dragging their fas¬ 
cinating guest fom his bunk and wheedling facts 
and figures from him. As it was, their imagina¬ 
tions ran riot and they had dived for treasure, 
bought and outfitted an ocean-going yacht with 
their findings, and started on a cruise around 
the world long before the cabin-clock had 
sounded eight bells. 

At the strike Phil advised his companions to 
get their sleep, saying that he would stand the 
watch until eleven; and the boys, realizing that 
a day and a half must elapse before their arrival 
at Norfolk, corked their enthusiasm and went 

98 


99 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

below. The night passed stormily, but as the 
Sea Bird was running in deep water before the 
wind she made good weather of it, and no in¬ 
cident of a disturbing nature occurred. Smith 
stood a watch in rotation with the three boys, 
and it was not until breakfast-time that all hands 
again assembled. 

Then there was another surprise in store for 
the original crew of the yawl. 

“I see,” said Smith, “that two of you are en¬ 
tered in the log-book as Philip and James Stev¬ 
enson. D’ you happen to be the sons of Philip 
Spencer Stevenson, the copper magnet?” 

“Magnate, do you mean?” asked Phil. “Yes, 
Dad’s in the copper business.” 

“Well, I snum,” declared Smith. “Then it’s 
the same feller. Your granddad had a summer 
place down at Northeast Harbor, Maine, and a 
little sloop called the Schoodic. I used to hear 
about your father, and the places he did n’t visit 
in that sloop was n’t worth visiting.” 

“Do you mean,” asked Phil incredulously, 
“that you had a summer place on Mount Des¬ 
ert, too?” 


100 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

“Me? Summer place?” Smith laughed hear¬ 
tily. “Pshaw, no. I was a native and just 
lived there.” 

“Oh. Well, I remember the sloop Schoodic. 
Dad’s often told us about her.” 

“I reckon he has,” said Smith. “I did n’t 
know your daddy but I knew his boat, and she 
was the finest little sloop that ever felt the ‘breath 
o’ life beneath her keel,’ as the poet says. Now, 
she was a boat that could ’a’ took us down to 
the West Indies.” 

“So could the Sea Bird ” asserted Tom de¬ 
fensively; “and if she were mine we’d start this 
minute.” 

“Yes,” Smith agreed. “The Sea Bird could 
do it, too. But if you don’t mind I’d like to 
stop in Norfolk and get my duds. A feller 
needs more than one shirt and one pant to be 
self-respecting.” 

The laugh which greeted this remark served, 
as laughter often does, to break the thread of the 
conversation; but the topic that was uppermost 
in the boys’ minds soon came again to the sur¬ 
face. The morning was fair, and, under a di- 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 101 

minished wind, the Sea Bird bowled along with 
all sail set toward the entrance of Chesapeake 
Bay. As on a previous morning in Long Island 
Sound, the Stevenson brothers and Tom lay at 
their ease on deck, centering their attention on 
the helmsman. 

“I wish, Mr. Smithers,*’ said Phil, “that you’d 
tell us more about this German treasure-yacht. 
Can you show us the chart?” 

“Not on deck,” replied Smith firmly. “Wind 
might blow it away. That part of it can wait, 
anyway, until we find out whether we ’re going. 
But if you ’ll promise to call me plain Smith 
instead of Mr. Smithers I ’ll spin my yarn.” 

Youth does not readily drop the handle that 
age gives to men, and the three demurred until 
the older man added: 

“I’m a demercratic feller, and if I was to meet 
the king of England in the street I ’d call him 
George, even if he was old enough to be my 
father. And he’d call me Smith ’cause that’s 
the monicker I’m known by from here to Cape 
Town. How about it?” 

Jim, the first to make the plunge into the 


102 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

comradeship that the nickname implied, dived in 
head first. “Right-o, Smith,” he declared. 
“Shoot the works.” The others laughed their 
approval and Smith took up his story. 

“As you proberly know, boys, the German 
Government in the Great War needed gold 
about as much as it needed anything, and as it’s 
easy to transport they loaded it into submarines 
and took it acrost. The trick was to get it to 
the subs, but they did that in more ways than 
you could shake a stick at. One was, for in¬ 
stance, for to charter a fleet of fishing-boats 
which carried oil and gold both, like they did 
down in my country, and another was to use 
pleasure-yachts.” 

“Now the steam-yacht Alcatrance was a hun- 
dred-sixty-five-footer supposed to be owned by 
Juan Menendez, a Cuban sugar king. I say 
supposed. She cleared from Havana for New 
York, and when she had come abreast of the St. 
Johns River, Florida, her engineer reported 
trouble in the condenser. He could n’t get fresh 
water for his boilers, he said, and the yacht put 
in to Jax. She laid there several days for re- 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 103 

pairs, and then her captain reported to the au¬ 
thorities that as he could n’t get no decent work 
done he would return to Havana. In the mean 
time, however, German agents had put two hun¬ 
dred thousand dollars in gold aboard her. 

“So she cleared in the regular way, and when 
she got down to the straits of Florida she headed 
east instead of cutting acrost to her home port. 
Her captain, you see, aimed to keep a rendyvoo 
with the German UC-Seventy-Three fifty miles 
to eastward of Great Inagua Island. On the 
night of July second, nineteen eighteen, when 
it was raining buckets and blowing great guns, 
the yacht took the ground on a reef, and all 
hands was lost. Or so it was reported later 
when a U. S. revenue-cutter searched the cavs 
along the Cuban coast for survivors. 

“Nobody tried to find her and salvage her, 
as no one but the captain and one other German 
in the crew knew of the gold aboard her. The 
agents in the United States might ’a’ done some¬ 
thing about it, but I suppose it seemed to them 
a risk to send another boat after her, and they 
counted it one of the losses of the war. 


104 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

“One man survived the wreck, and as he was 
the one that knowed about the gold he kept mum. 
I seen him in Colon a year ago, when I was sail¬ 
ing with the Panama Line, and we got ac¬ 
quainted. Him and me got into a row one night 
with some of them spiggoty cops, and he got a 
bayonet through his midship section.” 

“I bet that was n’t all that happened,” sug¬ 
gested Tom. 

“It was n’t, but I ’ll tell you that another time. 
Before he died I went to see him in the hospital 
and he gave me the chart that marks her location. 
The Alcatrance, dismasted, and with two hun¬ 
dred thousand dollars in gold aboard her, lies 
with her deck only twenty feet under water. 
With one of these diving-hoods they make now¬ 
adays, we could get the whole of that money.” 

Entertaining as Smith’s story was, it seemed 
incredible to the boys that so much money could 
have lain undiscovered since 1918, and their 
questions searched what they thought were weak 
points in the narrative. But from his answers 
it was evident that Smith had asked himself all 
these questions during the time that the chart 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 105 

had been in his possession. Upon inquiry, for 
instance, he declared that the man from whom he 
had obtained the secret of the yacht had with¬ 
held it from all others because he himself wished 
to profit by his knowledge. At the last he had 
relinquished it to Smith rather than have it fall 
in the hands of the Panama authorities. 

“But why,” asked Phil, “have n’t beach¬ 
combers searched the yacht?” 

“They proberly have stripped her of every¬ 
thing movable on deck; the few, that is, that has 
come acrost her in fishing. But the gold’s in a 
wall-safe in the captain’s cabin, and I have the 
combination.” 

“Fair enough,” Jim conceded, “but have you 
told anybody else who might go down there with 
a diving-outfit and dynamite the safe?” 

“No,” asserted Smith, somewhat testily, “I 
ain’t told a living soul.” 

“But you told us freely enough,” Jim pursued. 
“Suppose we can’t go this time but keep the in¬ 
formation and try it a couple of years from 
now.” 

“Now, listen here, boys,” Smith exploded. 


106 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

“I suppose you ’re jest trying to find out if I’m 
a gabbling old man or whether I’ve really got 
the goods. I Ve told you this much ’cause I 
want you to get old Spence Stevenson to let us 
look for the Alcatrance. But when it comes 
right down to tacks I ain’t told you a thing that 
would do nobody any good without the chart; and 
there don’t anybody see that until we ’re ready 
to start. Savvy?” 

“I savvy all right,” said Jim good-naturedly. 
“I just wanted to make sure that there was n’t 
a whole fleet of treasure-seekers already anchored 
on the spot.” 

“No fear of that,” was Smith’s final word on 
the subject. “We ’ll have it all to ourselves.” 


CHAPTER X 


‘fTlOM, will you sound four blasts for the 
JL drawbridge ?’ ’ 

It was morning of the fourth day out from 
New York, and the Sea Bird, having worked 
up the Elizabeth River to Norfolk under power, 
was waiting to enter The Hague. 

Tom, shaping his lips to the mouthpiece of a 
rusty fish-horn, blew mightily, and the shore- 
hungry crew awaited impatiently. In a few 
minutes the draw swung ponderously open, and 
the yawl, her engine hiccuping at its slowest 
speed, nosed cautiously into the small-boat 
haven. Mooring was found close to the sea-wall 
that bounds Mowbray Arch, and the boat soon 
came to rest. 

“Terrible nice to be here,” said Jim, stretch¬ 
ing luxuriously, “but it makes me seasick to be 
still.” 

“Laziness is all that’s the matter with you,” 

107 


108 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

said Phil. “Lend a hand getting the dink over, 
and we ’ll all go ashore for a bite and to send a 
telegram to Dad.” 

This sensible program was adhered to with the 
exception that Smith, declaring that he “was n’t 
fit for no restaurant looking like this,” left the 
boys to go to the steamship offices for his clothes. 
It had already been arranged that, awaiting 
word from Mr. Stevenson, he would remain with 
the boys aboard the Sea Bird. 

The telegram sent, the boys sought an eating- 
place and ordered a triple portion of steak and 
onions. Pending the arrival of this modern am¬ 
brosia, Tom opened the day’s edition of “The 
Ledger-Dispatch” and uttered an exclamation 
loud enough to attract the attention not only of 
his companions but of all the diners in the res¬ 
taurant. 

“It’s us!” he shouted ungrammatically, “here 
in the paper!” 

“Quietly, Tom; everybody’s looking at you,” 
adjured Phil. “What’s the matter?” 

“Look for yourself,” said Tom, spreading the 
paper on the table. And the three boys, their 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 109 

heads drawn together over a block of type, read 
the following: 

COPPER KING’S SONS 
LOST AT SEA 
P. S. Stevenson Here to Search 
for Yawl Believed Wrecked 
in Recent Storm 

The story, amplifying the head-lines, reported 
that Philip Spencer Stevenson, becoming 
alarmed at the failure of his sons to report at the 
Delaware Breakwater, and having found by tele¬ 
graphic inquiry that they had not been sighted, 
had come to Norfolk to enlist the aid of the 
coast-guard and revenue-cutter officials. A de¬ 
scription of the yawl and of her, personnel fol¬ 
lowed. 

It was now Phil’s turn to become excited. 
With the remark, “You eat it; I’m not hungry,” 
he threw a two-dollar bill on the table and dashed 
headlong from the restaurant. Not pausing to 
speculate whether it was the steak or the money 
that Phil wanted the other boys to eat, they, with 
one accord, picked up their caps and followed 


110 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

after; while the waiter, standing with a steaming 
tray in his hand and a look of imbecility on his 
face, shook his head in bewilderment. 

“Hey, where are you going?” Jim panted, 
overtaking Phil when the latter had come to rest 
on a street-corner. “Dad’s not going to run 
away now that he’s here.” 

“I’m taking the car back to the boat. He 
may be there this minute, and the longer he waits 
the madder he ’ll be.” 

“No reason why he should be mad that I can 
see,” said Tom, joining the other two. “It’s 
worry that brought him down here.” 

“Yes. That’s just why he ’ll be hot when 
he finds us. If we want to put this cruise across 
we ’ve got to strike him in a good humor.” 

Both Jim and Tom thought regretfully of 
their lunch, but, a car coming at that moment, 
they determined to stick with Phil and climbed 
aboard. Arriving at The Hague a few minutes 
later and finding the boat untenanted, Jim, who 
always spoke as he felt, declared that it would 
have been more sensible to call up the paper and 
find out where his father was staying. But Phil 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 111 

insisted that the boat be made shipshape first. 

Two busy hours passed, and Jim was again 
bringing up the question of telephoning the news¬ 
paper when a familiar voice hailed them from 
the shore: 

“Ahoy, you runaways! Send the boat over.” 

It was the twins’ father, and there was a smile 
on his face nearly, if not quite, a yard wide. 
The presence of Smith, cleanly shaved and in his 
shore clothes, standing by Mr, Stevenson’s side, 
spoke volumes to the apprehensive boys, although 
at the same time filling them with bewilderment. 
It meant, they joyfully realized, that the owner 
of the yawl had already learned the story of 
the storm, and that pleasure rather than anger 
was his controlling emotion. But how had he 
come to meet Smith? 

The first flurry of reunion over, the happy 
quintet (of which the slicked-up Smith made a 
somewhat abashed fifth) crowded into the cabin 
to rehash the events of the last four days. 

“I need n’t tell you, boys,” said Mr. Steven¬ 
son, “that your mother was worried nearly sick 
when you did n’t phone us from the Breakwater. 


112 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

But I had some faith in your navigating ability, 
or I would n’t have let you put to sea at all, and 
I more than expected to find you here on my ar¬ 
rival. Nevertheless, I wasn’t taking any 
chances, and ships are on the lookout for you all 
the way from here to New York. 

“And that, by the way, answers the question 
that is sticking out all over you. I was in the 
office of the Dominion Line talking with a friend 
when in walked Smithers. As he had been re¬ 
ported lost, his arrival was more exciting than my 
story, and by the time everything was told I felt 
as if I had found an old shipmate. Any man 
of his luck and resourcefulness is worth know¬ 
ing. . . . Well, the reporters will be here 
shortly, no doubt, and as soon as you are through 
with them we may as well make arrangements 
for storing the boat. I have to be back in New 
York very shortly.” 

“We have another plan, Dad,” said Phil some¬ 
what hesitantly. “We thought you might like 
to hear about it.” 

“Bless my soul,” laughed his father, “you Te 
full of plans. What is the latest?” 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 113 

“We thought that now that Smith’s with us 
you might like us to cruise right down to 
Florida.” 

Mr. Stevenson glanced at Smith indulgently. 
“I’d rather, trust you with a down-easter,” he 
said, “than any other brand of sailors. But I 
counted on taking the boat south myself in the 
fall.” 

“But don’t you see, Dad,” Jim put in eagerly, 
seeing that his father was at least open to per¬ 
suasion, “that if the boat’s there you will have 
more time for cruising in the West Indies?” 

“Yes, I can see that. But what does Smith 
say? He still has a job with the steamship com¬ 
pany, I take it, unless they hold him responsible 
for the loss of the life-boat.” 

“Smith says,” Phil began, and then inter¬ 
rupted himself with, “Oh, Smith, tell him the 
whole story.” 

Whereupon Smith, who had been nursing his 
black pipe in the palm of his hand, and becom¬ 
ing more and more uneasy as the boys conversed 
with their father, launched into his story of the 
wreck. He went into it more closely than he 


114 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

had with the boys, mentioning the seductive 
proximity of the Cuban shore to Miami, stress¬ 
ing the importance of the project to himself, 
and, on the score of his excellent record with his 
late employers, pleading that he be permitted 
to continue the sea training of his sons and their 
companion. 

The plea was made with a rough eloquence 
that surprised even the boys, and it was evident 
early in the narration of the story that Mr. 
Stevenson had not grown too old to be moved by 
a tale of lost treasure. As Smith stopped speak¬ 
ing, the other man sat, chin in hand and elbow on 
his knee, looking out past the harbor, beyond the 
city, and seemingly down to a distant reef, where 
sharks wove intricate patterns among the timbers 
of a sunken yacht. He aroused himself from his 
meditation. 

“June, too soon,” he remarked cryptically; 
“July, stand by.” 

If it was an incantation, none of his listeners 
dared to break the spell. Breathless, they 
awaited his next words. 

“I was thinking,” he continued, “of the hur- 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 115 

ricane season in the Caribbean. From what I 
know of the delays of cruising, you could n’t pos¬ 
sibly get out of there before the end of July, and 
that is sometimes a bad month in the West 
Indies. . . 

He broke off, struck by a new idea. “Torn,” 
he questioned, “you know semaphore; do you 
know radio as well?” 

“Yes, sir. I can take up to twenty-seven 
words with a little practice.” 

“Have you ever caught the daily weather- 
reports?” 

“Yes, sir; often.” 

Thereupon Mr. Stevenson, accustomed 
throughout life to quick decisions, slapped his 
hand on the cabin-table. “Very well,” he an¬ 
nounced, “we 'll install a radio telephone on the 
Sea Bird , and if you will promise to stand a con¬ 
scientious weather-signal watch at noon and ten 
p. M., my consent to the cruise is granted. At 
the first hint, Smithers, of a weather disturbance 
in the Caribbean, you will stop whatever you are 
doing and make for shelter. The safety of the 
crew and the yawl comes first.” 


116 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

He stifled an incipient cheer with a wave of his 
hand. “Time for that when you have found the 
gold—if you do. If I were you, boys, or you, 
Smithers, I would call cruising the first object 
and the possibility of reward entirely secondary. 
But in case you do have luck, how do you intend 
to divide the swag?” 

“Four ways, sir,” replied Smith. “I own the 
secret, but it’s no good without the yawl.” 

“That’s perfectly fair. How about a diving¬ 
suit?” 

“I know where I can get a shallow-water out¬ 
fit, and I’ve just about enough kale to swing 
it.” 

“I shall take care of all that. We ’ll go up 
town now for a good meal and to buy the equip¬ 
ment. The other details can come later.” 

At this the jubilation of the boys was bound¬ 
less, and, acting on Jim’s impromptu sugges¬ 
tion, they organized what he called a Society of 
Sporting Fathers and elected Mr. Stevenson 
president, commodore, secretary, and honorary 
life member. Membership was limited to one, 
despite Mr. Stevenson’s laughing objection that 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 117 

he knew a thousand fathers who were eligible. 

From this moment on, the time of the boys was 
vastly occupied. Reporters and photographers 
featured the double story of the yawl’s arrival 
with the castaway Smithers, and there was a 
press of visitors aboard who interfered seriously 
with the stowing of stores and the installation 
of the telephone set. But the work on the lat¬ 
ter progressed, Smith, with his superior, knowl¬ 
edge of seamanship, attending to the rigging of 
the aerial, while Tom and an electrician from 
the outfitting house concentrated on the appa¬ 
ratus itself. 

Although the object of the cruise of the Sea 
Bird was divulged to no one, her crew were al¬ 
ways ready to explain the installation and opera¬ 
tion of the telephone. Thi's was of the vacuum- 
tube type, capable of receiving messages from 
high-power stations at a distance of at least a 
thousand miles under average conditions. 
Hence, from any point on the Cuban coast (al¬ 
though this point was not mentioned to callers) 
it could pick up not only Key West and Guan¬ 
tanamo but Arlington itself. 


118 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

The tuning-set consisted of a large loose- 
coupler with sliding contacts, secondary con¬ 
denser, and a wing variometer to make it re¬ 
generative. For an A-battery Tom had speci¬ 
fied a six-volt, three-cell automobile storage bat¬ 
tery, which, when fully charged, he felt would 
last at least six weeks; and for the B-battery he 
employed six blocks of the common flash-light 
cells. 

From a short A-mast, secured to the end of 
the bowsprit and inclined forward at an angle 
of forty-five degrees, the aerial led in a double 
strand to a spreader elevated by a light spar to 
a height of eight feet above the main-truck. 
This gave the necessary clearance above the main 
gaff. It then extended to a topmast erected by 
the ingenious Smith on the existing mizzen and 
was conducted by heavy conduit to a deck insu¬ 
lator near the foot of the mizzen, whence with 
suitable insulation the wire led forward to the 
cabin. 

At the set it led through a small series con¬ 
denser to the primary end of the loose-coupler 
and was grounded to the iron ballast at the low 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 119 

point of the bilge. The complete set was 
mounted on the starboard side of the cabin op¬ 
posite the galley and was protected from mois¬ 
ture by a hood of composition board covered with 
heavy oiled silk. Both batteries were secured 
in a rack at the side of the boat, above possible 
encroachments of bilge-water, and well protected 
against deck leakage. 

Finally everything was ready for setting sail. 
New charts had been purchased, the diving-out¬ 
fit, placed aboard under cover of darkness, had 
been stowed in the forward locker, and Mr. 
Stevenson had said good-by and returned to 
New York. On the eve of departure, Smith col¬ 
lected the boys in the cabin and announced his 
intention of showing the chart of the wrecked 
yacht Alcatrance . 

“You ’ll want to see this, boys,” he said, “be¬ 
fore we get on the ground, and now’s as good 
a time as any.” 

So saying, he reached inside his flannel shirt, 
fumbled with a buckle, and, with a twisting move¬ 
ment of his body, pulled out a time-worn money- 
belt. Opening a pocket of the belt, he with- 


120 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

drew a folded section of a coast chart, stained 
with salt water and its markings partly obliter¬ 
ated by wear. 

At first sight it disappointed the youthful 
crew of the yawl, for somehow they had antici¬ 
pated seeing a romantic document, torn by the 
thrust of a bayonet and marked with the blood 
of its former owner. Only by a cross in indeli¬ 
ble pencil did it differ from any other chart of 
the region. But in the cross lay its value. 

“Now, here,” said Smith, matter-of-factly, “is 
a chart of Florida and the Cuban coast, and here 
is where the treasure lies. The reef is unnamed, 
but this gives us its bearings, and we can soon 
enough find it.” 

“Are you sure,” asked Phil, “that the chart 
is correctly marked? If the Germans who made 
that chart knew where the reef was, why did n’t 
they keep the Alcatrance off it?” 

“They knew where it was after they hit it. 
It’s the only one they could have hit, being 
where they w r ere.” 

“Hm,” mused Phil, “how far is it from Key 
West?” 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 121 

“No call for us to put in to Key West. I 
should say it’s about a day and a half from 
here.” Smith indicated with a blunt forefinger 
a point on the Florida coast. 

“From Fowey Rocks, you mean?” 

“Yes, but speak softer. It’s a still night, 
and there’s no telling who might be listening.” 

For an instant a hush fell over the cabin, and 
then, as no sound was heard save the passing 
of a distant street-car, Tom stood up and asked, 
“Let me hold the chart near, the light, will you, 
Smith? There seems to be something written 
on the margin.” 

Standing erect, the chart in his hands, he was 
about to inspect it when his ear caught a slight 
brushing sound against the side of the yawl. 
Quietly he dropped the chart and, with a finger 
to his lips, turned and climbed the ladder to the 
deck. He looked around and in the darkness 
saw nothing, listened intently and heard noth¬ 
ing; and then to make assurance doubly sure 
left the lighted hatchway and walked forward 
along the deck. 

Below, Smith and the two Stevenson boys re- 


122 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

mained quiet a moment, and then Jim laughed. 
“Two hundred thousand in gold makes Tom 
nervous,” he declared. “He hears things that 
are n’t there.” 

As if in answer to his words, there was a sud¬ 
den commotion on deck, the sound of a blow, a 
muffled cry, and the loud clatter of a motor-boat 
engine alongside. In a mad rush the three in 
the cabin made for the deck, jammed in the com¬ 
panionway, and reached the forecastle too late 
to come to Tom’s defense. Above the roar of 
the engine, now twenty feet from the yawl, arose 
a mirthless laugh. “I said I’d get him,” said 
the voice, “and I have. Come and fetch him. 
And if you want to know who I am, I’m Nick 
Callaway.” 


CHAPTER XI 


F OR an instant, but for an instant only, the 
Stevenson brothers and Smith gazed in 
blank bewilderment after the disappearing 
motor-boat, which bore away the unconscious 
form of Tom. 

Then, “Get the dink!” cried Phil, and dashed 
madly aft to where the small boat lay to its 
painter under the yawl’s stern. 

Simultaneously Smith bethought himself of 
the treasure-chart lying unprotected on the 
cabin-table and, with an agility which would have 
been surprising in a man thirty years his junior, 
he threw himself toward-the companion way and 
darted below. If it was a ruse to get the chart, 
a nimble-fingered confederate of Nick’s might 
have profited by the diversion that had brought 
the crew to the deck. But no, scalawag though 
Callaway was, he had not that amount of 

123 


124 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

finesse. The chart lay where Tom had dropped 
it. 

Smith scooped it up, stuffed it into his money- 
belt, and, clasping the belt about him, was on 
deck again by the time Phil had cast off the 
painter. Here there occurred an instant’s fur¬ 
ther delay, for Phil, seeing that Smith was ready 
to accompany him, asked Jim to stay behind. 

“What’s the big idea?” asked Jim. “No¬ 
body ’s going to steal the ship.” 

“That’s all right,” replied Phil. “Two’s 
enough in the dink. Get the engine ready for 
a quick get-aw r ay. You can do that and Smith 
can’t.” 

Seeing it from this light, Jim quickly climbed 
out of the small boat and Smith jumped in. But 
there had been precious seconds lost, and when 
the rowboat, under the mad impetus of Phil’s 
oars, rounded the turn and passed under the 
drawbridge, there was no motor-boat in sight. 
Far down the river, however, could be heard the 
rapid put-put of a marine engine. 

“There he is,” cried Smith; “I hear him.” And 
Phil bent with renewed vigor to his task. But 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 125 

it was a losing fight. The noise dwindled into 
the distance, and as Phil rowed farther he be¬ 
came irresolute with doubt. 

“Suppose,” he said, resting on the oars, “he’s 
drawn up under some dock and has given us the 
slip.” 

“No,” said Smith, “I think I reckernized that 
motor-boat, and if I did it belongs to a schooner 
anchored down the river. Let me spell you.” 

So saying, he changed places with the boy and 
bent his back to the oars. Ten minutes passed 
and even Smith was losing his confidence, when 
the two heard the sound of an anbhor-chain rat¬ 
tling through the hawse-pipe. 

“That’s her,” Smith cried, looking over his 
shoulder. “I can just make her out. We’ll 
run alongside and find out what this is all about.” 

“Faster, Smith,” urged Phil. “She’s getting 
under way.” 

For a minute that dragged second after end¬ 
less second the rowboat cut through the night, 
and hope rose in the breasts of the man and the 
boy. And then, when another dozen strokes 
would have brought her abreast of the schooner, 


126 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

there sounded the heavy choke of her exhaust 
and she gathered headway. For yet another 
instant momentum carried the dinghy forward, 
and in that agonizing second Phil read on the 
schooner’s counter the name Helen H, Green - 
wood . Above the name-board hung a motor- 
boat in davits, its bottom dripping water in a 
multitude of tiny streams. 

“She’s gone,” said Phil, despairingly, and 
Smith lay limp on his oars. 

From the deck of the schooner came that 
taunting voice of Callaway’s: “By-by, you 
suckers. We ’re off.” 

Unable to effect a landing, Smith turned the 
boat around and started slowly toward The 
Hague. But Phil was not so easily dismayed. 

“Let’s make it snappy,” he declared. “We ’ll 
put after him in the Sea Bird! 9 

“I’m with you. But what’s it all about?” 

In a few words Phil told of the quarrel be¬ 
tween Tom and Callaway and of the latter’s 
ridiculous threat to “get” Tom. As to how or 
why he had turned up several hundred miles 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 127i 

away from the little harbor, on Long Island 
Sound, Phil could not say. 

“It’s a cinch he thought that by kidnapping 
Tom he’d get the chart,” was Smith’s con¬ 
temptuous comment. “Much good what he 
overheard about the wreck will do him without 
it.” 

“Could ho get it out of Tom by torture?” 
As he spoke his thought Phil’s spine crept. 

Smith sucked in his breath sharply. Then he 
spit deliberately into the water and declared, 
“They don’t torture these days.” But he knew 
the sea and what it does to some men, and he 
was not sure. 

By the time the rowboat had regained the 
yawl. Smith’s hard pull against the tide had be¬ 
gun to tell on him, but in getting her under 
way and out of The Hague the twins could well 
proceed without his aid. Minutes were wasted 
as they lay waiting for a sleepy bridge-tender to 
swing the draw, but this interval was at least 
partly saved by hauling the dink aboard and lash¬ 
ing it in place. When at last the draw swung 


128 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

wide and the yawl gained the river she was at 
least an hour behind the absconding Greenwood . 

Then Phil’s sober, second thought asserted it¬ 
self. “Golly!” he exclaimed, “I should have 
called up the harbor police and told them.” 

“Just as well you did n’t think of it sooner,” 
observed Smith dryly. “Don’t know nothing 
personal about these police, but my experience 
with the tribe in general is that by the time 
you Ve got through describing the criminal and 
they’ve got under way in pursuit he’s had time 
to grow a full set of whiskers. We ’re doing the 
best thing as it is.” 

So the boys sat tight and hoped. The night 
was entirely without wind, and it occurred to the 
diminished crew of the Sea Bird that as 
commercial schooners are usually under-powered 
the yawl had a fair chance of catching the Green¬ 
wood . At any rate, they would plug on at the 
motor’s best speed until wind or daylight came, 
and then perhaps keep plugging on. 



CHAPTER XII 

N ICK CALLAWAY was not by any 
means a villain in the accepted sense of 
the word. Although in the heat of anger that 
morning on Foley’s wharf he had threatened 
Tom with violence, the chances are that in the 
ordinary course of events he would never have 
molested him. Certainly the paths of their lives 
led far apart. When on the night in Norfolk 
they did converge and his cupidity was aroused 
by talk of the sunken treasure-yacht, he acted on 
the spur of an evil moment. 

It came about in this way: Nick finding him¬ 
self unable to secure the easy berth of a paid 
hand on any of the yachts going into commission 
in his home port, drifted to New York and there 
in a water-front cafe fell in with a group of men 
who were organizing an unlawful enterprise. 
Mutual acquaintanceship chancing to be estab¬ 
lished, he was taken into the confidence of these 

129 


130 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

men and learned that they wanted an experi¬ 
enced hand to complete the crew of a whisky- 
runner. Nick promptly volunteered, and by 
reason of his naval experience was given a berth 
of subordinate responsibility in a mixed crew 
that knew little law or order. 

The small ship in which he soon found himself 
was a Gloucester topsail schooner of less than 
150-foot length, redolent of fish and greasy with 
the uncleanliness of many years. Ostensibly in 
the lumber business to West Indian ports, she 
soon embarked for Jamaica, there to pick up a 
consignment of whisky for illegal delivery into 
the United States. 

To a man of Nick’s temperament, his new oc¬ 
cupation was an alluring one. The profits of 
smuggled liquor ran high, and the risk of appre¬ 
hension by the prohibition enforcement authori¬ 
ties did not alarm him as it would the ordinary 
law-abiding man. In fact, once he was com¬ 
mitted to the business and had placed himself be¬ 
yond the pale of the law, he relished the thought 
of armed conflict with the federal officials. 

The captain of the Helen H . Greenwood , Ike 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 131 

Somers, was not a man to inspire confidence. 
Having spent most of his life in the coastwise 
barge trade, he knew little of the sailing of ships. 
Late in life he, like Nick, had been attracted by 
the tales of big money in the rum traffic, and, 
against his better judgment, had invested money 
in the Greenwood and assumed her captaincy. 
A short, weak-faced man, asthmatic, and 
sluggish in mind and body, he puffed when he 
walked or talked, and if, as occasionally hap¬ 
pened, he thought, he sagged his heavy jaw and 
panted. 

The small crew of the Greenwood being a job 
lot of misfits with a decided tendency to land- 
lubberliness, it is not surprising that Callaway 
soon sifted his way to the top of them. Despite 
the error in seamanship that had cost him his 
job on the Long Island sloop, he was a fairly 
good sailor, and it was not long before he was 
advising the captain himself. In fact, he com¬ 
bined natural energy with a fondness for being 
in the foreground of any picture to such an ex¬ 
tent that he was soon virtual captain of the 
schooner; and Somers, finding that his cabin had 


132 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

been stocked with a case of whisky for con¬ 
sumption on the outward voyage, gave him free 
rein. 

That Callaway was not a skilled navigator was 
shown, however, on the night that the Sea Bird 
proved herself. The Greenwood , having left 
New York at about the same time, was caught in 
the same storm, and Nick, advising the drunken 
captain to “hold on a little longer,” had been 
the cause of the mainsail’s whipping free in the 
fury of the wind and soaring into space. This 
accident meant putting in to Norfolk for new 
canvas, and it was while running the Green¬ 
wood's tender into The Hague for stores that 
Callaway had sighted the Sea Bird . 

His first thought was, “If I catch that cub 
Randolph ashore I ’ll belt him one for the fun 
of it”; but he dismissed it upon consideration that 
this might involve him with the police and be the 
cause of losing his ship. 

Nevertheless, the Sea Bird and her crew had 
a marked fascination for him. On his occasional 
errands to The Hague he eyed her longingly, 
and on the evening that had been set for the 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 133 

departure of the Greenwood his curiosity over¬ 
came him. He had come alone from the 
schooner for a can of lubricating-oil, and al¬ 
though he knew that Somers was impatient to 
be under way on a fair tide, he delayed long 
enough to pick up an oar and scull the motor- 
boat alongside the Sea Bird . 

Moving noiselessly through the water, and 
screened by the darkness, he reached out and 
grasped the side of the yawl just as Smith intro¬ 
duced the subject of the chart. At the word 
“treasure,” all that was evil in him rose to the 
surface, and as the further words of the crew 
floated through the open port-holes he quickly 
revolved in his mind means of getting possession 
of the chart. When Tom rose and moved the 
chart to the light, almost within reach of the 
covetous Callaway, his caution gave way, and 
tender and yawl brushed each other. 

It was this noise that had brought Tom to the 
companionway, and when the unfortunate youth 
moved forward along the deck Callaway’s mind 
was made up. In the darkness he could not see 
whether or not Tom still held the chart in his 


134 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

hand, but he surmised that its information was 
imprinted on the boy’s brain. His resolve to 
kidnap Tom was executed with a stunning blow 
from the butt of the oar. Tom, leaning forward 
at the moment and receiving the blow on his 
head, collapsed into the tender, and on the in¬ 
stant Callaway started the motor and made off. 

Of his successful escape with the senseless 
Tom we already know. The manner of it was 
as curious as everything that went on aboard the 
Greenwood. Coming up under the stern of the 
schooner, Callaway found the falls lowered to 
receive the tender, while on deck her captain 
fumed in impatience to be gone. 

“Where you ben? Picking daisies?” he asked 
scornfully. 

“I’m here, ain’t I? What more do you 
want? . . . Haulaway.” While speaking, Nick 
had hooked on the falls to the hoisting-rings in 
the boat, and at his last words men on the deck 
of the schooner pulled her up “two blocks.” 

“There’s a friend of mine here in the boat,” 
he continued, himself climbing out. “He wanted 
to ship for the cruise, and when he was getting 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 135 

into the tender he slipped and knocked his coco. 
He’s still out.” 

“A friend, is it!” bellowed Somers. “I can’t 
be taking any of your friends. I ’ll be having 
all my sails carried away.” 

“That was your own fault more than it was 
mine,” said Callaway, as if in continuation of an 
old argument. “If you hadn’t been drunk 
you’d ’ve lowered in spite of me. . . . Any¬ 
way, you ’ll want this feller. He knows where 
there’s a treasure-ship sunk on the Cuban 
coast.” 

“I don’t want no treasure,” the captain 
stormed. “I got mine in Jamaica.” 

“You ’ll want this treasure. Two hundred 
thou in gold.” Nick rolled the words lovingly 
off his tongue. 

“Eh? He knows where it’s at?” 

“Ain’t I been telling you right along that he’s 
got the secret and wants to split with us?” 

“All right, then. Lay him on deck and let 
him come to. . . . Up anchor, you landlubbers, 
or we ’ll miss this tide.” 

Although not yet conscious when Callaway 


136 THE SEA BIRD S QUEST 

hurled his parting words at the occupants of 
the rowboat, Tom came to presently and sat up, 
holding a hand to his aching head. In the dark¬ 
ness he could see little, but even in his dazed 
condition he knew that he was in unfamiliar sur¬ 
roundings. The coal of a pipe glowed near him. 

“Where am I?” he asked weakly. 

“Oho, young bantam; so you ’re awake. Well, 
this is the good ship Helen H. Greenwood , and 
I’m Nick Callaway, and we re off to look for 
gold. How does that suit you?” 

Memory, flooding in on Tom like a strong 
stream, swept his brain clear. The Sea 
Bird . . . the treasure-chart ... a noise on 
deck ... a man in a boat alongside. Instantly 
he reconstructed the events that had brought him 
to the Greenwood and determined to make his 
stay aboard her of the shortest possible duration. 
He rose, staggered to the rail, and had labori¬ 
ously lifted one leg over when strong arms pin¬ 
ioned him from behind. 

“None of that,” said Callaway. “You might 
drown, and then where would you be? Lie be¬ 
low for to-night, and in the morning we ’ll talk 


i 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 137 

turkey.” While speaking he half supported, 
half shoved Tom to the forecastle hatch, down 
which he tumbled him ruthlessly. Then, to make 
sure that his victim should not again attempt 
escape, he boosted him into a bunk and tied his 
wrists with a loose end of rope. 

Tom, who had little strength in him and who 
might well have drowned if he had been per¬ 
mitted to carry out his half-formed plan of 
swimming ashore, accepted his fate and closed 
his eyes. Philosophically believing that in the 
morning things would look more cheerful, he 
at length went to sleep. 

Callaway, meanwhile, walked aft for another 
word with the captain. “Ike,” he began, “this 
young buddy of mine is pretty badly pickled, 
and he’s lying in for the night. He wants to 
tell you about the treasure, but I told him it could 
wait till to-morrow.” 

“I don’t take much stock in no treasure story,” 
returned Somers, “but if he’s any good at all 
we can use him on deck.” 

Callaway let it go at that. He understood 
his captain fully after a fortnight’s association 


138 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

with him, and he had described Tom as a friend 
in order to lull the old man’s suspicions until 
they were well at sea. In port, he figured, 
Somers would shy away from shanghai through 
fear that it would direct unwelcome attention 
toward his shady enterprise. Upon learning the 
facts at sea, however, he would prefer to keep 
Tom aboard rather than put back to port with 
him. 

Waking in the morning, Tom found his hands 
untied, and he arose to an unappetizing break¬ 
fast of salt fish and rank coffee. Again accept¬ 
ing what appeared to be the inevitable, he ate, 
and then appeared on deck. It was broad day¬ 
light, and in the gleaming sun the sea was as 
friendly and inviting as when last he had seen it. 
But what a difference otherwise! 

Instead of the clean canvas deck of the Sea 
Bird, his feet trod coarse yellow pine, seamed 
with pitch, while over everything was the slime 
of fish. Nauseated, he looked astern and there 
thought he discerned the trim sails of the little 
yawl, hull down over the horizon. His friends 
were gone and instead of them— 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 139 

“Yes,” said the voice of Callaway in his ear, 
“that’s the Sea Bird , and precious good she ’ll 
do you. She held her own under power till 
daylight, but since we got a fair, slant of wind 
she’s been going, going, gone.” 

Tom turned on his tormentor savagely. 
“Well,” he questioned, “what do you want of 
me?” 

“Nothing at all, nothing at all,” replied Nick 
in mock alarm. “We ’re just going aft now 
to talk to the captain. Thought you’d like to 
tell him this yarn about the treasure.” 

“Let me see him at once,” said Tom imperi¬ 
ously. “He ’ll put me ashore, or I ’ll know 
why.” 

“You ’ll know why as soon as you see the old 
fish,” declared Nick cheerfully, and led the way 
aft. 

In the cabin he continued: “Cap, here’s my 
friend. He wants to tell you—” 

But Tom interrupted. “I’m not his friend,” 
he asserted. “He knocked me on the head, and 
tied me up in your dirty fo’c’sle last night. I 
want to know the reason for this.” 


140 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

Somers, his mind moving slowly, as always, 
opened his mouth and looked questioningly from 
one face to the other. “Ain’t he your friend, 
Nick? You said—” 

“Listen, you big stiff. I told you that last 
night so as you would n’t start thinking any¬ 
thing. No, he ain’t my friend. But I’m his 
friend, because I ain’t going to hurt him if he 
comes across with the info about this yacht Alca - 
trance . Why, him and his pals was going off 
in that little Sea Bird looking for two hundred 
thousand dollars in gold”—Nick licked his lips 
appreciatively—“and I don’t see a darned reason 
why we should n’t get it instead. He has n’t 
got no chart, but he knows where it is.” 

This was a little too much for Somers to digest 
at once. “Say that again, slower,” he asked. 
And Nick repeated, adding that if Tom would 
not offer in information freely there were ways 
of making him. 

“Two hundred thousand dollars in gold ,'” said 
Somers finally. “You know where that is, 
young feller?” 

“Yes, I know. And I ’ll keep it to myself.” 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 141 

“Is that so, now? And in gold did you say, 
Nick? Could we get it easy?” 

“Absolutely,” said Nick decisively. “If they 
could get it with a peanut-shell, what’s to pre¬ 
vent us?” 

“But if this young feller don’t want to tell 
us, there ain’t no law to make him, ’specially 
since you shanghaied him.” 

“Why, you old dumb-bell, we can put the 
screws on him. Starving’s one way. It don’t 
leave no marks.” 

At this suggestion Somers suddenly and sur¬ 
prisingly made up his mind. His mouth closed 
firmly, and he opened it to snap: “Well, kid, 
what about it? Do you give us the lay-out or 
not?” 

“Decidedly not,” replied Tom emphatically. 

“This is mutiny, Nick. Get a pair of irons 
and make him fast to a stanchion. I ’ll see him 
to-morrer.” 


CHAPTER XIII 


A LTHOUGH it was supposed by the 
blunt-minded Somers that manacles would 
terrify Tom, they served only to humiliate and 
infuriate him, while as a means for preventing 
him from obtaining food they were entirely un¬ 
necessary. A raw-boned Swede who had the 
wheel-watch at the time of the interview, in the 
captain’s cabin, and who improved his time by 
eavesdropping through the open skylight, soon 
passed the word throughout the crew; and there 
was not a man aboard the Greenwood who would 
not make it his personal business to starve the 
boy. They were without exception an avari¬ 
cious lot, who, as soon as the facts were under¬ 
stood, considered that Tom was withholding in¬ 
formation about money that belonged by right to 
them. 

His movement restricted to a short radius 
around the stanchion to which he was fastened, 

142 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 143 

Tom made himself as comfortable as he could, 
while anger boiled over within him. He could 
sit upright, his legs straddling the iron post 
(which was one of the supports of the boat-skids) 
and his hands between his legs, or he could lie on 
his stomach on the grimy deck, his arms out¬ 
stretched above his head. Or he could stand, 
leaning against the stanchion to preserve his 
balance as the schooner rolled. There was little 
comfort, and no balm to an outraged spirit. 

Dinner-time came, and the cook, passing for¬ 
ward with the crew’s mess, paused to windward 
of the captive so that the aroma of a beef stew 
might be blown to his nostrils. Tom, who was 
on his feet at the time, turned a contemptuous 
back on his tormentor and said nothing. But 
the savor of the stew, rough fare though it was, 
made him aware of the first pangs of hunger. 
After dinner two men from the forecastle sat 
near him, and with much descriptive profanity 
discussed the “swell” shore feed that they had 
eaten in Norfolk. Tom, remembering the steak 
and onions that he had abandoned on learning 
the news of Mr. Stevenson’s arrival in that city, 


144 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

sighed heavily. Throughout the afternoon he 
was subjected to taunts from the members of 
the crew, but with excellent restraint he held his 
tongue. 

At supper-time the cook again stopped beside 
him. “Good eats to-night,” he said. “Straw¬ 
berry jam and fresh bread. Better have some.” 

Tom said nothing. 

“Take my advice, kid, and tell what you 
know,” said the cook, not unkindly. “You can’t 
hold out much longer.” 

Tom, left to himself, became aware for the 
first time of the drain that hunger may have on 
one’s determination. Suppose—and he had not 
really believed until then that it could happen— 
suppose he were starved to the point that food 
became of more importance to him than the keep¬ 
ing of Smith’s secret. Would he sell it for a 
square meal? 

He hoped not, and yet, utterly friendless as he 
was, he felt his courage slipping. “Come,” he 
said to himself, suddenly rousing. “You ’ve lost 
only two meals, and you ’re already feeling weak 
in the knees. While you’ve still got it in you, 



THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 145 

better think of some way out of your scrape.” 

Lying prone on the deck and pillowing his 
face on one arm, he turned over in his mind 
schemes for outwitting his captors. His first 
realization was that he had committed a bad mis¬ 
take in the beginning. If he had asked imme¬ 
diately for a chart and pointed out a spot a hun¬ 
dred miles from the treasure-yacht he might have 
made the captain and Nick believe that he was 
telling the truth, a lie, under the circumstances, 
being more than permissible. But if now he vol¬ 
unteered the information they would in all like¬ 
lihood suspect the falsehood. 

Again Tom sighed. If only he had been more 
quick-witted! 

What could he do now? Actual starvation 
was a slow process, and he shuddered to think of 
the pangs of his hunger after three or, four days’ 
denial of food. Some way must be found to 
bring them to more speedy conclusions with 
him. 

So thinking, he at length dropped off into 
light slumber, from which around midnight he 
was aroused by the slatting of the sails. The 


146 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

wind had dropped again, and the schooner rolled 
heavily. The voices of Somers and Callaway 
caught his attention, Somers saying: 

“Don’t often catch a calm off Hatteras. Gen- 
’ally blows like seven devils.” 

In reply Callaway’s voice: “We’d better 
start the motor and get the hell outer here. That 
yawl’s got it on us when there ain’t no wind.” 

“Oh,” replied Somers, “there ’ll be wind soon 
enough. I tell yer it always blows off Hat¬ 
teras.” 

“But you can see that it ain’t blowing.” 

“I can’t be burning gas all the time. What 
do you think this is? A pleasure-yacht?” 

“But—” and so on in endless, useless argu¬ 
ment. 

Tom, cherishing a slight hope that Fate was 
playing into his hands, went off to sleep again. 

Daylight came and found the ship still be¬ 
calmed. Tom, whose shackles did not deprive 
him of the entire use of his hands, dipped a cup 
in the bucket that had been placed near him and 
drank deep. He felt much refreshed by his 
sleep, and there was only a dull pain in his 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 147 

stomach. Breakfast—not his, but the men’s— 
stimulated his appetite again, however, and he 
waited impatiently for the promised interview. 
With the program that he had laid out for him¬ 
self, it promised to be painful, but, like an ap¬ 
pointment at the dentist’s, he was eager to get it 
over wdth. 

Nick, emerging from the after quarters, curled 
his lip into a malicious smile of greeting. 

“How goes it, kid?” he asked. “Ready to 
cough up?” 

“Not to-day, nor to-morrow, nor the next 
day.” 

“We ’ll soon see about that. Wait till the 
captain gets through with you.” And he pro¬ 
duced a key from his pocket and unclasped the 
manacles. 

But the captain, when Tom was led into his 
presence, seemed less formidable than Nick. 
Early though it was, he had been drinking heav¬ 
ily, and he slouched forward in his swivel-chair, 
half lying across the cabin-table. 

To arouse him, Nick said: “Cap, here’s the 
dirty little piker. Tight-mouthed as ever.” 


148 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

Somers looked up vacantly. “What’s the use 
of plaguing him, Nick? He’s just a kid,” he 
said querulously. 

“What’s the use? Oh, my eye, you ’re plumb 
loco. Didn’t I say he had two hundred thou¬ 
sand dollars in gold?” 

Gold. This was the magic word that had ex¬ 
cited Somers before, and again it stimulated 
him. 

“In gold, did you say? Has he got it on 
him?” 

“Well, you are drunk. I keep telling you 
that he knows wdiere it’s sunk on a reef, and he 
won’t fork up the dope.” 

“I remember now. Well, starve him some 
more.” 

Tom, who had maintained a scornful silence, 
realized that the dialogue was taking a bad turn, 
and resolved to direct it to his own purposes. 
Surprised almost that his tongue could shape the 
words, he blurted out, “You drunken sailor, it 
takes more than you, or any half-witted son of 
a sea-cook to make me talk.” 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 149 

But his words failed of their desired effect. 
Instead of stumbling to his feet and bowling 
Tom over with a blow, the captain looked admir¬ 
ingly at him and declared, “Spunky young 
devil.” 

Nick blazed up in the wrath which should have 
consumed Somers. “Did you hear what he said, 
Ike?” he asked furiously. “He called you a—” 
and he spoke the unmentionable words. 

“No—hie—he called me a son of a sea-cook, 
and I am that. My father was the g-grandest 
cook you ever ate after.” 

Tom, no less than Nick, ground his teeth in 
baffled anger. The treasure had been quite for¬ 
gotten by the maudlin old man, and Tom saw 
no other way of inviting the manhandling that 
would wring from his seemingly reluctant lips 
the secret of the Alcatrance. Nick, for his part, 
saw the minutes slipping away, divined that the 
Sea Bird was overtaking them, and strove des¬ 
perately to bring Somers to decisive action. 

“Look here!” he shouted. “This kid’s mak¬ 
ing a monkey of you. He’s got gold, gold , 


150 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

gold, and he won’t tell; and you sit there with 
your mouth open, catching flies. My God, do 
something!” 

But the old man puffed out his lips and 
blinked mildly. 

Then Tom saw that he must direct the fury 
of Nick toward himself. “You fake,” he said 
deliberately, “you ’ve started something you 
can’t finish. For two cents I’d bang your head 
in, you—” 

At the word, Nick swung, all the power of his 
anger behind the blow; and Tom, his chin un¬ 
guarded, dropped to the floor. But he was up 
in an instant, dodging, lunging, fighting in real 
earnest. For a minute or two they fought 
savagely, back and forth across the cabin, while 
the captain, at last witnessing something that he 
could understand, laughed approvingly, and the 
crew, gathered around the sky-light, called en¬ 
couragement to both combatants. But even had 
Tom wanted to win, his weakened condition 
would have interfered, and Nick, with a final 
blow to the jaw, took his measure. 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 151 

With the end of fighting, Nick’s anger was 
not abated, however, and he crouched over his 
helpless enemy, one hand on his throat to hold 
him down, the thumb and fingers of the other 
pressed against his eyes. 

“Now, will you cough up?/’ 

“No,” muttered Tom, summoning all his cour¬ 
age to the task that still lay before him. 

For answer, Nick bore heavily on his adver¬ 
sary’s eyeballs. “Will you tell?” 

“No.” He sought to wriggle out of Calla¬ 
way’s grasp, panting, sobbing with the pain in 
his eyes. But Nick held him fast. 

The pressure increased, and streams of fire 
were communicated to his brain. Youthful en¬ 
durance could bear the agony no more, and he 
cried out: “Yes, I ’ll tell. Let me up.” No 
need there to simulate the pain in his voice. 

Nick dealt him a blow on the cheek with the 
flat of his hand and arose to his feet. “He ’ll tell 
now, Cap,” he said contemptuously. “I wish 
I’d thought of that sooner.” 

Tom was allowed a short interval for the pain 


152 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

in his eyeballs to abate, and then Callaway again 
demanded, “Fork out now, or you ’ll find that 
I can finish what I start.” 

“Where’s your chart of the Cuban coast?” 
asked Tom listlessly. 

The captain, somewhat sobered by the refresh¬ 
ing scrimmage in his cabin, arose heavily from his 
chair and extracted a chart from a drawer. Tom 
looked it over. 

“That’s no good,” he observed. “The wreck 
is off the chart to the westward.” 

“Do you mean west of Havana?” 

“Sure. You did n’t suppose it was in Morro 
Castle, did you?” 

“None of your lip. Describe the place.” 

“Haven’t you got a chart that shows it?” 

“No,” put in Somers, “we don’t never sail 
that way.” 

“Then,” said Tom, “you’ve had your trouble 
for nothing.” 

But Nick was not so easily put off. Seizing 
an arm, the unprincipled sailor, twisted it behind 
Tom’s back and forced the hand upward. Tom 
writhed in pain. 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 158 

“Wait a minute,” he said, wincing. “Maybe 
I could draw it for you.” 

“That’s a better spirit,” declared Nick. 
“Cap, give him paper and pencil.” 

So Tom, drawing from memory, sketched out 
that portion of the Cuban coast that lies in the 
vicinity of Jutias Cay. Although a full three 
hundred miles from the wrecked treasure-ship, 
it is reef-filled territory, and the artist felt sure 
that it would pass. Indicating an island light¬ 
house and a range of mountains on the Cuban 
mainland, he was about to supply names when 
Nick, watching over his shoulder, declared: 
“Why, I know that region. Many’s the time 
I’ve looked for Jutias Light.” 

Turning to the captain, he continued: 
“Looks like the kid is playing square with us, 
Ike. But,” he turned again to Tom, “remem¬ 
ber this, young codfish, you stay with us, and if 
we don’t pick up the kale, I’ve got a wal¬ 
lop in my right hand that you haven’t felt 
yet.” 

Tom’s heart sank. Here was a contingency 
that he had n’t considered. He had looked only 


154 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

at what lay ahead, with no thought of what was 
around the corner. 

The captain, having at last caught up with the 
facts, was poring over Tom’s rough map, when 
there came a hail from the deck. 

“Sail ho!” 

“Where away?” he asked automatically, in the 
phrase of the sea. 

“Dead astern.” 

“Can you make it out?” 

“Looks like that little yawl that was following 
us.” 

Tom, his hope rising, smiled largely to him¬ 
self. 

Nick muttered an oath and rushed out on deck. 
Why did not the wind blow? He turned an in¬ 
quiring face aloft. The telltale fluttered gently. 
“Here she comes, Cap,” he shouted, “breezing 
up from the northwest.” 

Tom, summoning his hope again, lingered in 
the cabin after Nick had called out his discourag¬ 
ing news. 

“Captain,” he pleaded, “if that’s the Sea Bird, 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 155 

will you put about and let them take me off?” 

The answer blighted hope. “Out of my way, 
boy; we ’re off for gold. Can’t waste a north¬ 
west slant.” 


CHAPTER XIV 


W HEN the Sea Bird left Norfolk in pur¬ 
suit of the Greenwood> Phil did not 
know whether the schooner was bound north or 
south. He did know, however, that for a dis¬ 
tance of twenty-five miles to the Virginia capes 
all vessels leaving the city must run the same 
courses, and he figured that with even a slight 
advantage of speed the yawl would be able to 
overhaul the Greenwood enough to sight her in 
the morning. 

Nor was this hope falsely placed. As day¬ 
light dawned the watchers on the yawl were re¬ 
warded by sight of the tall spars of the Green¬ 
wood, dead ahead and distant a matter of three 
miles. She, like the yawl, was proceeding under 
power, for the morning was breathless. The sea, 
being always desirous of enthralling men’s souls, 
had the sleek, pearly surface that it sometimes 
assumes in the early morning light, and had the 

156 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 157 

circumstances been different the Stevenson 
brothers would have vowed again their allegiance 
to it. 

As it was, they thought only of overtaking the 
schooner. 

“I should say,” said Phil, after a rough mental 
calculation, “that we have about half a mile an 
hour on her. If this calm holds we can come up 
in five hours at the most.” 

“And then what do we do?” asked Jim, a little 
doubtfully. 

But his dubious question was cut short by 
Smith. “Look there, will you?” he demanded, 
pointing a crooked forefinger over the yawl’s 
quarter. 

And, turning, the boys saw a submarine, out¬ 
ward bound on a practice run, going full speed 
on the surface. Two heads showed above the 
conning-tower, and a single figure stood on the 
low deck, holding to the hand-rails. 

“Now if we had her speed,” observed Jim, 
“we could overhaul the schooner in half an 
hour.” 

“And if Tom were here,” supplemented Phil, 


158 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

“he could semaphore over and ask her to do the 
job for us.” 

“If Tom was here,” put in Smith dryly, “we 
would n’t be here.” 

“I’m going to signal her, anyway,” said Phil 
abruptly, and whistled and waved his hand. But 
even as he did so, the man who had been standing 
on deck ran to the conning-tower, the heads dis¬ 
appeared from view, and the submarine prepared 
to dive. 

“That’s that,” said Jim, as the sub dis¬ 
appeared beneath the surface. “And my ques¬ 
tion is just as good as it was before: What hap¬ 
pens if we do overtake the schooner?” 

“Guess you’ve never seen my pal, have you, 
boys?” asked Smith, in answer to Jim’s question. 
“I did n’t have her on me when I went over¬ 
board from the liner, nor yet last night, but from 
now on she's going to stick by me pretty 
steady.” 

In mystification the boys watched Smith un¬ 
button his shirt and reach his right hand under 
the left arm. Holding his hand thus, he looked 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 159 

idly about until his eye was caught by the tell¬ 
tale, fluttering from the masthead. 

4 ‘Watch that,” he said, pointing with his left 
hand. 

Wondering whether their shipmate had lost his 
senses, the boys turned their heads to follow the 
direction of his pointed finger. Instantly there 
was a roar and a flash of flame, and the tip of 
the pennant floated down to the water. 

“That’s Blue Bessy,” said Smith, laughing 
heartily at the boys’ surprise. “She don’t speak 
often, but when she do how she do holler.” In 
his hands he caressed the blued steel of a Colt’s 
forty-four. Under their delighted urging he 
replaced the revolver in its shoulder-holster and 
“drew” again and again to demonstrate the light¬ 
ning-like rapidity of his movements. 

“But there’s no use shooting any more,” he 
argued. “They might hear Bess on the 
schooner.” 

And then he explained how a seemingly sim¬ 
ple seafaring man came to have such a pal. “I 
railroaded,” he said, “in the bad days down in 


160 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

Guatemala, when every engineer was running 
for president, and every fireman was a colonel. 
Revolutions kept better schedules than the trains, 
and if you did n’t have somebody like Blue Bessy 
with you you stood a poor chance of being 
elected. I never lost the habit of toting her, ex¬ 
cept in the real hot countries when the holster 
chafes your arm. 

“Now,” he continued, “I would n’t have let 
you—that is, I’d ’a' advised you not to set out 
after the Greenwood last night if it had n’t’ve 
been that we had four in the crew, Bess counting. 
It strikes me, Jim, that if we overhaul her they ’ll 
let an old cove like me come aboard to argue, 
thinking I can’t do no harm. And, then, Bess 
will find a way to get the three of us—meaning 
Tom and me and her—off again.” 

“It listens well,” said Jim grudgingly, “but 
I still claim as I said to you last night, Phil, that 
we ought to have notified Dad so that he could 
send a radio broadcast for any ship to stop the 
schooner and take Tom off her.” 

Phil answered, “I tell you, Jim, that getting 




THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 161 

on her heels right away last night seemed to me 
the best bet.” 

“Why don't we send out a message ourselves?” 
asked Smith. 

“You don’t understand,” returned Jim. “All 
we have is a receiving-set. The Government 
does n’t let unlicensed amateurs install transmit¬ 
ting apparatus.” 

“Then the blooming thing ain’t no good to us 
that I can see.” 

“Yes, it is. When we get Tom back we can 
pick up radio weather-reports with it, and if 
there’s any wireless telephoning going on any 
of us can listen in.” 

“About as useful,” declared Smith, “as a tin 
cup when there ain’t anything to put in it.” 

The schooner had now rounded the Charles 
sea-buoy and was headed south, the Sea Bird 
still in pursuit. As Smith pointed out, her di¬ 
rection was of good omen, as even if the wind 
did spring up and the Greenwood forged ahead, 
she was bound to cut close to Diamond Shoals 
Light-Vessel off Cape Hatteras, and they could 


162 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

keep on her course although they lost her 
from sight. 

As he spoke, the surface of the water was ruf¬ 
fled by the first breath of an approaching breeze, 
and Phil exclaimed bitterly. 

“It’s always the way,” he said. “If you 
want to sail the wind dies, and if you want to 
motor she springs up. I wonder what makes 
me like the sea!” 

“Anyway,” said Smith, “the wind’s fair, and 
we can use sail and motor both. Shall we up 
with 'em, sailors?” 

The sails were quickly hoisted, and as the wind 
freshened the Sea Bird slightly increased her 
speed. But it was evident all too soon that the 
Greenwood , under a full press of canvas, was 
doing the same and better. Close as the yawl 
had drawn to the schooner, she was still too far 
distant to come to definite conclusions; and al¬ 
though, as Smith had said, “Bess was hankering 
to say something,” there was nothing effective 
that she could say. 

“Looks like a long race,” said the philosoph- 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 163 

ical Phil, when it was at length seen that there 
was no immediate hope of overtaking the Green¬ 
wood. “Better shut off the motor, Jim; it helps 
only a little under sail, and we may need the gas 
later.” 

The day wore around, and life aboard the Sea 
Bird went on in what had by now become ac¬ 
customed sea routine. The absence of Tom was 
felt keenly, while ignorance of his condition on 
the other boat tried the spirits of his best friends. 
But even after the Greenwood had hauled ahead 
and out of sight their hope held high. It was 
mid-June, a period of variable winds with fre¬ 
quent calms, and the chances of overtaking the 
schooner under power were slightly in the Sea 
Bird’s favor. 

When, shortly after midnight, the wind did 
die away, no time was lost in starting the engine 
and continuing the pursuit. The crew of the 
yawl were of course unaware that throughout 
the remainder of the night the schooner lay mo¬ 
tionless; and great was their elation upon sight¬ 
ing her in the morning light. 


164 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

“Ho; the watch below,” called Smith, who 
had the deck while the brothers slept. “The 
schooner half a point on the port bow.” 

And the two boys tumbled out eagerly. After 
one glance ahead, Jim dropped down to groom 
the engine, hoping to coax an extra revolu¬ 
tion or two by a finer adjustment of the mix¬ 
ture, but Phil remained on deck, feeling talk¬ 
ative as one often does upon abrupt awaken¬ 
ing. 

Insensibly the relationship between Phil and 
Smith had changed, and, although the boy was 
still the captain of the yawl, he gladly invoked 
the wisdom of the man. 

“Do you think the calm will hold until we 
overtake her?” Phil asked anxiously. 

“Hard to tell. It most generally blows 
around Hatteras,” replied Smith, unconsciously 
repeating a thought previously uttered by 
Somers. 

“Well,” pursued Phil, “are you sure that’s 
the Greenwood? All I can see above the horizon 
is her topmasts.” 

“Unless,” he answered, “the Greenwood has 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 165 

a sister ship also calm-bound off Hatteras, that’s 
her. You can’t fool me on ships.” 

Nor, as it developed, was he much fooled on 
the weather probabilities. When the breeze 
that so delighted Nick Callaway sprang up, 
Smith shook his head dismally and said: “I 
knew it. It’s the way of the sea.” 

The disappointment of again coming within 
range of the schooner only to have her spread 
her wings and sail away was almost heartbreak¬ 
ing. Jim had done his best with the motor, and 
now Phil trimmed the sails to get the final inch 
of efficiency out of them, but slowly the Green¬ 
wood forged ahead. 

“I’m afraid, boys,” said Smith, “that we’ve 
lost our chanct. Now that we ’re rounding the 
shoals, she can steer most any point south of 
east and in twelve hours we ’ll never find her 
again. The ocean’s a large place, as the feller 
found out who started to swim acrost it.” 

“If only,” declared Phil, “that sub that we 
saw yesterday would come up and give us a 
hand.” 

“Golly!” exclaimed Jim excitedly, “there she 


166 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

is now. Broad on the port bow. Why, there’s 
two of them.” 

Smith, shading his eyes with his hand, looked 
intently seaward. "Them,” he stated, observing 
on the sky-line two match-sticks that might have 
been the periscopes of submersibles, "are sub¬ 
marine-chasers. Many ’s the time they fooled 
me in the war. They look more like subs than 
subs do, for a fact.” 

"Well, I wonder what they ’re doing out here. 
The war’s all over.” 

"I dunno. Yes, by snum, I do. It’s part 
of that prohibition navy we’ve been reading 
about in the papers. Out looking for rum¬ 
runners.” 

Intuition flashed a spark to Phil’s intelligence. 
"I ’ll bet,” he declared, "the Greenwood is a 
smuggler. If she is, the chasers will look her 
over and get Tom.” 

"It’s something to hope for, anyway,” said 
Smith doubtfully, "but they got no call to search 
a vessel without good reason.” And he added, 
"Now if that telephone was any good you could 
call ’em up and tell ’em to.” 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 167 

“That reminds me. 111 listen in and see if 
they ’re talking.” 

So saying, Phil went below, closed the aerial 
and battery circuits, and put the head-phone on. 
Tuning up and down for several minutes, he 
heard nothing but code, which was meaningless 
to him, and an occasional flash of static. He was 
about to give up the experiment when he paused 
on three hundred meters and heard a human 
voice. 

“I’ve got ’em,” he cried delightedly. 
“They ’re talking right now about the schooner. 
Wait.” 

Jim was by his side instantly. “Here’s pencil 
and paper,” he said. “Write it down.” And 
Phil, writing furiously, transcribed the words 
that floated loud and clear across the sea. 

“. . . and if you ask me,” said a crisp voice, 

“that’s a flossy mainsail she’s wearing. Must 
be a lot of money in the fishing business.” 

“Even poor fishermen have to get new canvas 
now and again,” declared the speaker on the 
other chaser. “I would n’t say there was any¬ 
thing suspicious about that.” 


168 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

To these chaser men the miracle of radio con¬ 
versation was evidently a commonplace. Talk 
was cheap, and they spoke inconsequentially over 
a mile of sea as they might have gossiped in a 
chart-room to while away an idle watch. 

“But it seems to me, Jack,” continued the first 
voice, “that she’s a long way from the sacred cod¬ 
fish. . . . She’s a Gloucesterman, right enough.” 

“Oh, sure; Gloucester’s written all over her. 
But that don’t prove anything. She might be 
in the lumber trade.” 

“Yes, and she might be heading for Patagonia 
to pick up a cargo of plesiosauruses. You ’re 
the boss, Jack, but I don’t like the cut of her 

jib.” 

“You ’re taking this business too seriously, 
Mac. If she were northward bound it might be 
another matter ; but if we go to boarding every 
schooner with a new mainsail we ’ll have our 
hands full.” 

There was silence for a moment, and Phil, 
glancing up at Jim, said savagely: “Look at 
that, will you. One of those fellows has got 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 169 

some sense, and the other one’s got the say. If 
I could only talk to them through this thing!” 

From the deck came Smith’s hail: “I kin see 
’em plain now, boys, and they ’re going right 
by the schooner. Certainly is too bad you can’t 
call up and give ’em an earful.” 

Phil needed no reminder of his impotence. 
Though he pounded his fist on the table and 
shouted at his loudest, “Search that schooner. 
For Heaven’s sake, stop her,” his voice would 
carry no farther than the ears of his shipmates. 
His brain seemed about to burst in the agony of 
trying to get his thought across to the unimag¬ 
inative leader of the chasers. 

Now the gossipy, chatty voice came again 
through the head-phone. 

“Pouf, pouf. You there, Mac? My Q. M. 
tells me he has just sighted a little yawl astern 
of the schooner. I suppose you ’ll say she’s a 
whisky smuggler too.” 

“Can’t make her out yet. But I’m not kid¬ 
ding you about this schooner. She don’t look 
right to me a-tall.” 


170 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

“I wish you’d call up Arlington and tell that 
to the commandant of horse-marines. I don’t 
get worked up about it.” 

“Well, as I said before, you ’re the doctor. 
But, say, wait a minute. One of my men has a 
message.” There was a touch of excitement in 
the voice of the invisible speaker, which com¬ 
municated itself to Phil. 

The radio again spoke: “Perhaps this will 
work you up, Jack. Somebody just semaphored 
‘Help’ from the schooner.” 

“That looks a little suspicious. Did he say 
any more?” 

“Just the one word, and then he was pulled 
down out of sight.” 

“You ’ll have to admit, Mac, that rum-run¬ 
ners don’t often come to us for assistance. Still, 
if you want to run over and investigate you have 
my permission.” 

“I’m going. Will you stand by?” 

“I ’ll follow you. Good-by.” 

The words were followed by the click of a 
switch and then silence. In a fever of jubila¬ 
tion Phil cast off the ’phone and bounded to the 
deck. Aid had come at last. 


CHAPTER XV 


W ITH the extortion of the information 
concerning the treasure-ship, Nick 
Callaway’s venom was, for the moment at least, 
appeased, and Tom was given the run of the 
ship. Another day and he would be put to 
work with the foremast hands, but for the pres¬ 
ent he could, as Nick phrased it, feed his face 
and get some of the soreness out of his joints. 
So Tom went first to the galley, where he found 
the cook willing to give him food. He ate rav¬ 
enously of salt fish that the day before had nearly 
turned his stomach, and then, his hunger satis¬ 
fied, he wandered disconsolate about the deck. 
Going aft, the sight of the yawl slowly falling 
astern brought a choked feeling to his throat, 
and, lest he give way to unmanly emotion, he 
walked forward to shut her from his sight. 
Leaning on the capstan of the forecastle deck 

he yielded himself to gloomy reflection. Bad as 

m 


172 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

things had seemed when he was chained like a 
beast to the stanchion, they appeared no better 
now after he had taken his chance and submitted 
to the punishment of the brute Callaway. Look¬ 
ing ahead, he saw days of companionship with 
vile men, work from which all joy had been ex¬ 
tracted, and at the end another encounter with 
Nick or the captain when it was learned that he 
had given a false position of the treasure-yacht. 
He sighed dismally. 

But suddenly, his gaze alighting on a slender, 
vertical object just showing above the south hori¬ 
zon, his thoughts took a new T turn. Suppose this 
thing, which looked like a spar-buoy except that 
it stood too erect against the sky-line, should 
prove to be another ship. Could he attract its 
attention to him and so contrive his rescue? He 
must have a scheme ready. 

Wherefore, resting his head on his folded 
arms, he dismissed his dismal forebodings and 
revolved plans for his escape. The simplest 
way, of course, would be to semaphore to a pass¬ 
ing ship that he was a prisoner. Since the war, 
he had been told, virtually every ship has in her 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 173 

complement a man who can read the code. But 
Tom realized immediately that Nick, being an 
ex-signalman himself, would anticipate and frus¬ 
trate any such move by confining Tom below 
decks. 

Yet he could devise no other plan that was 
workable. Nick, he had observed, kept an en¬ 
sign rolled up and attached to the halyards, and 
the prisoner might seize his chance and run this 
up reversed as a distress signal. But he could 
not hope to do it unseen by members of the crew, 
and it would be hauled down instantaneously. 

No, he must put his faith in semaphore. But 
how to do that unobserved? Turning, he looked 
aft along the deck, his eye pausing involuntarily 
at the stanchion to which he had been manacled. 
His glance followed the post up to the skids, and 
to the life-boat secured there. Here, flashed 
through his mind, was his opportunity. 

He gazed ahead again, and saw that the buoy 
had become a mast, and that it was followed by 
another buoy. Two vessels were approaching, 
and if he was to act he must do so quickly be¬ 
fore they were sighted by other eyes than his. 


174 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

Again surveying the deck, he saw that it was 
deserted, except for the Swedish helmsman, 
whom he could avoid by stealth. Such a golden 
opportunity might never come again, and Tom, 
acting instantly, walked aft, keeping the main¬ 
mast between him and the steersman’s line of 
vision. There came an anxious moment of peer¬ 
ing around the mast—and even in the stress of 
his excitement Tom thought whimsically that 
this was childhood’s hide-and-seek played in real 
earnest—and then the man at the wheel looked 
astern at the dwindling yawl. Tom leaped, 
dragged himself to the skids, and dropped from 
sight into the life-boat. An oar rattled on the 
thwarts, and he held his breath, fearing that his 
concealment would be betrayed. But there was 
no alarm, and in a moment he realized that the 
first part of his plan had been successful. 

For a long time he lay there, not daring to 
thrust his head above the gunwale of the boat, 
and wondering how he would know when to 
spring to his feet and flash the message over. 
At length he heard Nick’s blustering voice some¬ 
where beneath him. 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 175 

“Say, you on watch. Why didn’t you re¬ 
port them submarine-chasers ? They ’re almost 
abeam now, and if we was northward bound, 
loaded with liquor, a fine chance we’d have of 
getting outside the three-mile limit.” 

“We ain’t northward bound that I can no¬ 
tice,” said the helmsman. “My orders was to 
steer south by east.” 

“Well, you mind your eye if you want to keep 
out of trouble. Where ’s that young Randolph? 
He’s fool enough to jump overboard if we pass 
within two miles of them chasers.” 

“The last I saw of him, he was moping around 
on the fo’c’sle head. He must of went be¬ 
low.” 

“Well, 111 keep him there.” And, striding 
forward to the crew’s hatchway, Nick peered 
down into its dimness, and called out, “Don’t let 
that cub come on deck until I pass the word.” 

Now, there was not much love lost between 
Nick and the foremast hands, and when the 
three sailors who were loitering in the forecastle 
at the time heard Nick’s command, one said to 
the others, 


176 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

“He must think this is the zoo. We ain’t got 
no cubs down here.” 

And said another: “I don’t see how he gets 
that way, ordering us around like he was the 
Old Man. Don’t pay no attention to him.” 

So, unconsciously, these two of the lesser 
enemies of Tom played into his hands. Nick, 
satisfied that his captive could neither jump 
overboard nor signal to the approaching chasers, 
thought no more of him. Thought no more until 
five minutes later he heard a clatter in the port 
life-boat and saw Tom, his body silhouetted 
against the sky, waving his arms frenziedly. 

“Stop that,” bellowed Nick; and with the vigor 
of a mountain lion he leaped for the skids. 
Climbing up, he saw Tom’s arms form the pre¬ 
paratory signal in answer to a wave from the 
second chaser; saw him spell out the letters 
H-E-L-P—and then he reached the boy and 
dragged him down to the deck. 

“You ’ll need help when I get through with 
you this time,” he muttered through set teeth, 
and drew back his arm to strike. 

But Somers intervened to stop the blow. 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 177 

“Here, you hyena,” he cried, emerging from 
his quarters on the run, “you ’ve bullied that kid 
enough. Leave him lay.” 

“I ain’t bullied him half enough,” said Nick 
defiantly. “He’s given the whole game away.” 

“What game did he give away?” 

“Why, he’s just signaled for help from them 
sub-chasers.” 

“Aw,” said the captain, “they won’t pay no 
attention to a crazy kid on a lumber schooner.” 

“Is that so, now? Look at ’em. They ’re 
putting about already.” 

Somers looked and saw that the chasers were 
indeed changing course in the direction of the 
Greenwood . 

“Hm,” he said, “we got a clean bill of health, 
and they can’t do nothing to us. But, anyway, 
I won’t have you lambasting that kid any more. 
Get him below and out of sight, but leave him 
be.” 

Wherefore Tom, his nose bleeding from Nick’s 
rough handling, but not much hurt by his latest 
adventure, was unceremoniously bustled to the 
forecastle. The rumpus on deck had emptied it 


178 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

of its loafers, and Nick, gagging and binding 
him, closed the hatch and snapped the padlock. 

A few minutes later the submarine-chaser 
came up under the schooner’s quarter, and her 
commander, standing on the bridge, megaphone 
to his lips, called over: “Aboard the schooner, 
there. Heave to. We are coming alongside.” 

Somers, eager that the affair should go off 
smoothly, gave the necessary commands to ar¬ 
rest his ship’s way, and in a few minutes the 
chaser floated alongside and flung out breast¬ 
lines. 

Said her captain, jumping to the deck of the 
schooner: “I’m Magruder of the prohibition 
enforcement service. You signaled for help?” 

Nick, who had stood by the gunwale to give 
the officer a helping hand, cleared his throat and 
said: “A mistake, sir. The cabin-boy got 
fresh.'* 

Magruder, an alert, powerful man with black 
eyes that pierced like gimlets, surveyed Nick 
coolly, and asked: 

“Are you in command here?” 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 179 

“No, sir, but—” 

“Then speak when you are spoken to. Cap¬ 
tain,” he addressed the grizzled Somers, “what’s 
the trouble?” 

“Nothing, sir,” replied that worthy in embar¬ 
rassment. “It was like my mate here started 
to say. The cabin-boy got into my whisky 
and—” 

“Got into your whisky, eh? You interest me 
intensely, because whisky is right in my line.” 

“I mean my medicine-chest,” stammered 
Somers, beads of perspiration standing out on 
his brow. 

The officer stepped closer to him and sniffed, 
terrier-like. “Oh, I see,” he declared ironically: 
“you got the whisky, and all the cabin-boy got 
was the medicine-chest.” 

Somers, well over his depth at this, looked im¬ 
ploringly at Callaway and said: “You tell him, 
Nick. You got the gift of gab better than 
me.” 

Answering the appeal, Nick again thrust in 
his oar, but was again cut short by the uniformed 


180 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

visitor. “Stow it,” he snapped. “When you 
get the word from me you will know that it is 
time to speak. Not before.” 

He turned again to Somers. “Captain,” he 
said in a more amiable tone, “suppose we go to 
your quarters and look over your papers. Then 
you can tell me about this remarkable cabin- 
boy.” 

So the two walked aft, and Nick, for the first 
time since his old employer Mr. Caldwell had de¬ 
livered his opinion of him, felt effectively 
silenced. Cooling his heels on deck, he lighted 
his pipe and waited. 

In the cabin Somers seated his unwelcome 
guest and made haste to find his clearance- 
papers and to point out volubly that he was a 
law-abiding merchantman bound for Santo Do¬ 
mingo to pick up a cargo of mahogany. The 
officer asked many questions concerning his run 
from New York, his new mainsail (which had 
first aroused his curiosity), his owners, his stop 
in Norfolk, and so on. By degrees Somers be¬ 
gan to feel at ease, and when his questioner again 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 181 

referred to the fictitious cabin-boy, the captain 
had a fairly leak-proof story ready. 

It appeared, according to the story, that Som¬ 
ers had had a bad cold the night before, and, go¬ 
ing to his medicine-chest he had taken therefrom 
a quart bottle of whisky and poured himself a 
drink. He admitted that in his time he had been 
a drinking man, and the taste of the fiery liquor 
had got the better of him. He had sat up and 
“knocked” that bottle and was well started on 
his only other when the breeze sprang up in the 
morning and he had gone on deck to get the 
schooner under way. During his absence from 
the cabin the boy (who was a young friend of 
the mate’s) had sneaked in and stolen the bottle. 
The effect of it was his message to the chaser. 

“Surprising what an effect whisky will have 
on a sailor,” was the officer’s double-edged com¬ 
ment. “I think,” he added, “that I shall talk 
with that mate of yours. Have him come in.” 

In answer to the summons, Nick appeared in 
the cabin, hat in hand, and stopped, his heels 
together. 


182 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

“What is your name?” 

“Nicholas Callaway, sir, quartermaster, second 
class. Er, I mean—” 

“No matter. You were a quartermaster in 
the navy, I take it. Are you mate aboard the 
Greenwood 

“Yes, sir.” 

“You have the filthiest ship I ever set foot on. 
However, that is the captain’s business and not 
mine. Let me hear what you have to say about 
this young friend of yours, the cabin-boy.” 

“Why, it’s like the captain told you, sir. He 
got drunk and sent the message.” 

“And you have no better control of the men 
under you than you have of your tongue ? Don’t 
you know that it is against the law to send a false 
request for help at sea?” 

“Yes, sir, but he climbed into the life-boat to 
sleep it off and I did n’t see him. I stopped him 
as quick as I could.” 

The officer drummed meditatively on the table- 
top with his fingers, and Nick relaxed his vigil¬ 
ance. He thought that he had come through his 
catechism fairly well. 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 183 

Abruptly Magruder straightened in his chair, 
and pointed an accusing finger, at the mate. 
“Tell me this,” he ordered. “How many cabin- 
boys on coastwise schooners can send semaphore 
when they are under the influence of liquor?” 

Nick’s face blanched beneath its coat of tan. 
Here was a turn that he had not anticipated. 
Stammering, “I don’t know, sir,” he floundered 
mentally, looking for inspiration. Suddenly his 
self-possession returned and he continued con¬ 
fidently, “But this kid is an old friend of mine, 
sir, and I taught him the alphabet and often 
shoot flats with him just to keep me in practice.” 

It was the officer’s turn to be a little out of 
countenance. Although he had been frankly 
distrustful of the schooner, its crew, and the 
story, he acknowledged grudgingly that the only 
weak point in the explanation had been made 
reasonable by this latest remark of the mate’s. 
An old navy quartermaster would naturally like 
to keep in practice with semaphore. 

Rising, he walked out of the cabin. “Let me 
see the boy,” he flung over his shoulder. 

Here again was a poser for Nick. Tom was 


184 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

anything but intoxicated, and if the officer saw 
him the fat would be in the fire. Tom would 
charge that he had been shanghaied and that the 
schooner was a whisky-runner, and while he 
could reasonably be expected to keep silent about 
the sunken treasure he would certainly complain 
of the savage treatment that he had received at 
Nick’s hands. 

Returning an automatic “Aye, aye, sir,” Nick 
followed the officer on deck, frantically contriv¬ 
ing ways to defeat the other’s demand. But 
this time inspiration failed him. 

As it happened, however, no subterfuge or 
evasion was necessary. The other chaser had 
been standing by within hail, and her commander, 
the senior of the two, now called to the boarding 
officer. 

“Find anything suspicious, Mac?” he asked 
through cupped hands. 

“Nothing I can lay hands on. Her papers 
are all right, and I ’ll be through in a minute. I 
just want to look at a kid they have here who 
got into the medicine-chest and developed the 
D.T.s.” 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 185 

“Oh,” called the other, “don’t bother with him. 
Shove off and follow me. We’ve killed too 
much time as it is.” 

“Very well,” replied Magruder, relinquishing 
his intention; and, vaulting to the rail of the 
schooner, he lowered himself to his own vessel. 

Entering the chart-house, he signaled to the 
crew of the Greenwood to cast off his lines and 
placed a hand on the engine-room annunicator. 

“Captain,” he announced, “one last word. 
When you get down to Santo Domingo look 
over that mahogany carefully and see that they 
don’t try to ship any bottled goods into it. I’m 
on duty along this coast nights, all day, and 
Sundays.” 

A bell jangled in the engine-room, the exhaust 
of the starboard motor coughed hollowly against 
the schooner’s side, and the chaser gathered stern¬ 
way. 

Tom, half strangled, struggling against his 
fetters, heard the sound and looked into the pit 
of despair. 


CHAPTER XVI 


P HIL and his companions were in a fever 
of expectancy from the moment the chasers 
turned in the direction of the schooner, and when 
the latter hove to and the officer boarded her 
they spoke confidently of Tom’s coming libera¬ 
tion. The Sea Bird sped on through the water, 
each minute bringing her appreciably nearer and 
strengthening the conviction of her, crew that 
their long chase was coming to an end. 

When, therefore, the uniformed officer, unac¬ 
companied by Tom, vaulted to the deck of the 
chaser and the latter cast off, Smith and the 
Stevensons were plunged into the depths of dis¬ 
appointment. Phil and Jim shouted and 
whistled to attract attention, but all eyes aboard 
the two chasers were riveted to the schooner, and 
ears were for the moment deaf to outside noises. 
Her sails filling, the Greenwood slowly gathered 

headway and resumed her voyage- 

186 



THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 187 

But Smith’s pal was yet to be heard from. 
Blue Bessy, who had taken no part in the pro¬ 
ceedings, who had suffered no mental anguish 
at the escape of the Greenwood, suddenly spoke 
three times in rapid succession, and her voice 
carried to the men on the chasers. Resignedly 
the commanding officer stopped his craft to await 
the coming of the yawl. Magruder likewise lay 
to, and for the moment the schooner was for¬ 
gotten in the new interest of observing the dim¬ 
inutive yawl draw near. 

Phil, at the helm, steered for Magruder’s ves¬ 
sel and when within easy speaking distance came 
up into the wind and slacked off his jib-sheets. 
The Sea Bird came to rest like a tired gull. 

“Didn’t you rescue him?” asked Phil, in his 
anxiety dispensing with the conventional terms 
of greeting. 

“Rescue whom?” inquired Magruder coldly, 
his appraising eye roving the yawl with some cu¬ 
riosity. 

“Why, our shipmate, Tom Randolph. They 
shanghaied him, and we’ve been chasing them, 
and every time we get near the wind blows up 


188 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

and off they go. I thought sure you’d get him.” 

“Is it the fashion,” inquired the officer, “for 
mates and boys to speak for their seniors? I’m 
just asking because I want to know. This is 
the second time to-day that a skipper has stood 
around with open jaw while a kid shot off his 
mouth.” 

Phil looked at him for a second in bewilder¬ 
ment. Then he turned to Smith with a short 
laugh. “Oh, you tell him, Smith,” he urged. 
“Don’t stop to explain about us. Give him the 
story quickly.” 

So in a few words—in which, by the way, 
Smith took pains to introduce the boys as the 
sons of the world-renowned copper “magnet”— 
the case was laid before Magruder, and he was 
implored to act quickly and decisively. 

“Right,” declared Magruder. “I get the sit¬ 
uation now. I don’t mind telling you that I 
was feeling grouchy when you came up. But 
I ’ll board the schooner again and vent my spleen 
where it belongs.” 

Getting under way, he ran up a flag which in¬ 
dicated to the commander of the other, chaser 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 189 

that he wanted to speak with him by telephone, 

and without loss of time he communicated his 

/ 

new intention and received the necessary permis¬ 
sion. Somers, for his part, observing the con¬ 
ference of yawl and sub-chaser, knew that the 
game was up and hove to without waiting orders. 
So it was a matter of ten minutes at the most 
when the chaser went again alongside, soon to 
be followed by the Sea Bird , alongside of her. 

Magruder detailed a man to step aboard the 
yawl and watch her fenders, and then, accom¬ 
panied by Smith and the Stevensons, he climbed 
to the deck of the Greenwood . 

“Let me see Randolph immediately,” he or¬ 
dered, expecting ready compliance with his de¬ 
mand. 

But again Nick Callaway spoke up before the 
slow-witted Somers could frame a conciliatory 
“Yes, sir.” 

Said Nick, drawing a long face, and attempt¬ 
ing an eleventh-hour evasion: “I’m sorry to 
say, sir, that the boy broke loose just after you 
left the ship and dived overboard. He didn’t 
come to the surface.” 


190 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

The effect of this ingenious tale was somewhat 
destroyed by a bellow from the forecastle. Phil 
sprang forward with clenched fists, his eye blaz¬ 
ing fury. 

“You lie,” he cried. 

But Magr-uder restrained him with a touch of 
his hand. “Of course he lies,” he declared in a 
voice of silk, and to Nick he said, “Now, my man, 
produce that boy instantly, or you will have me 
to deal with personally; and after me, if there is 
anything left of you, the law. Jump!” 

Nick, his last barrier down, jumped. A bully 
by nature, the threat of physical punishment, 
made by a man of Magruder’s bulk, was effective 
without the further promise of judicial attention. 
Unlocking the forecastle door, he stood aside in 
deep chagrin as Tom came bounding out, free 
of his gag and bonds. 

“Hai!” he shouted. “I’m free.” And there 
was a veritable Babel of sound as he greeted his 
three shipmates, slapping their shoulders affec¬ 
tionately and all but hugging them. At length 
Phil was able to get in the deprecatory phrase: 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 191 

“Don’t thank us. Mr. Magruder here did the 
trick for you.” 

And Tom, with his heart overflowing, turned 
to the officer and said, “I do thank you, sir; but 
you nearly caused the death of me when you left 
the schooner a few minutes ago.” 

“Oho,” Magruder laughed sympathetically, 
“that wouldn’t kill you after what you must 
have been through aboard this packet. But I’m 
sorry I gave you any anxiety. Now suppose 
we six, excluding the mate, go to the captain’s 
quarters and find out what’s to be done about 
this.” 

In the cabin the captain found himself again 
without the support of Callaway, but, having 
determined that honesty was the best policy 
(with reservations), he came through the ensu¬ 
ing conference with some personal glory and 
satisfaction. 

Magruder opened with a statement to Tom: 
“Now, you are the damaged party here, and if 
you care to enter charges against Somers or Cal¬ 
laway I shall be glad to back you up. Shang- 


192 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

haiing is a charge that is generally pretty hard 
to prove, since the plaintiff’s unsupported word 
must stand against a ship captain’s, but with 
your connections ashore and under the circum¬ 
stances I think we can obtain satisfaction. Per¬ 
sonally, I should enjoy the experience.” 

“Would that mean,” asked Tom, “going back 
to Norfolk?” 

“Yes, but that wouldn’t inconvenience me in 
the slightest, because I am bound there.” 

“I was thinking about us, I’m afraid. Mr. 
Smithers won’t mind my saying in general that 
we think we know where there is a wrecked 
treasure-ship in the West Indies, and if we de¬ 
lay very long the hurricane season will inter¬ 
fere with our plans.” 

“So,” said Magruder, “there is gold at the 
bottom of all this. I was going to ask you, but 
I might have guessed it, as human nature does n’t 
change much from century to century. What 
would you like to do?” 

“What I’d most like to do is to get my 
strength back, have a little sparring practice, 
and then plug the tar out of Callaway.” 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 193 

“Hanging from the yard-arm would be more 

r c 

his speed,” interposed Jim. 

‘‘But,” continued Tom, ignoring his friend’s 
helpful suggestion, “since I can’t do that now, 
I say to let him go. We might spend a whole 
summer in Norfolk waiting for the case to come 
before the court.” 

Here Phil spoke up. “I think I can speak 
for all of us, Tom,” he declared, “that we ’re 
glad to forget the cruise and see this through if 
you want it.” 

“No,” said Tom again. “I’d rather not. 
I’m not forgiving or forgetting by any means, 
but I don’t see the sense of spoiling the cruise 
even for the sake of bringing Callaway to jus¬ 
tice.” 

To himself he added, “From what I know of 
this schooner, he ’a headed straight for jail as it 
is.” But, in order to avoid further complica¬ 
tions, he left unspoken his strong suspicion that 
the Greenwood was not the lumberman her cap¬ 
tain pretended her to be. 

There was a pause in the conversation, broken 
almost immediately by Somers. Clasping and 


194 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

unclasping his rough hands nervously, he de¬ 
clared to Magruder: “I want to do the right 
thing, Cap, and if you wish for to take Callaway 
off my hands I won’t make no objection. He’s 
got me into trouble enough already, carrying 
away my mainsail and losing all this time for 
you and I.” 

“Thanks,” replied Magruder. “I don’t want 
him. But note this well: You are a marked 
ship from now on, and if any irregularities oc¬ 
cur on board, there is certain to be a sequel when 
you get to port.” 

Although Somers groaned inwardly at this 
threat, whose full significance he could only 
guess at, he sidled rather skilfully away from it, 
saying: “There wouldn’t have been no irreg¬ 
ularities if I had n’t been busy getting under 
way. The mate said this boy here was a friend 
of liisn, and I did n’t take the time to find out.” 

“Oh, I meant to say,” put in Tom, “that Cap¬ 
tain Somers is n’t to blame. He was pushed into 
this by Callaway and stuck up for me as well as 
he could.” 

“Yeah,” said Somers hopefully; “wasn’t I 


/ 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 195 

good to you when he was going to lambaste you 
a while ago?” 

“Here,” declared Magruder, “we ’re wasting 
time. Get me your deck-log, Somers, and I 
shall enter these facts in it and then do the same 
in mine. Young Mr. Randolph may care to 
prefer charges later. In the mean time, take 
mighty good care that you don’t molest the yawl 
in any way.” 

A few minutes later the six filed out of the 
cabin, and with curt good-byes Magruder and 
the crew of the yawl left the Greenwood . On 
deck of the schooner Callaway was nowhere to 
be seen, but when the lines of the chaser were 
being cast off, he appeared above the gunwale, 
pipe in his mouth, as insolent as ever. 

“Hey, you Randolph,” he jeered, brandishing 
his pipe, “don’t forget that I ’ve got the map. 
If you ain’t looking for trouble you better stay 
away from that place for a bit.” 

Tom denied himself the satisfaction of re¬ 
vealing that the map was worthless, and was, in 
fact, urged by Magruder to say nothing. The 
chaser and the yawl, still secured to each other, 


196 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

drifted slowly away from the Greenwood as the 
officer took friendly farewell of the amateur 
treasure-seekers. 

“It’s lucky for you sapheads that the chaser, 
came along,” Nick called, his courage rising as 
the gap between the ships widened. “You’d 
’a’ got into a peck of trouble if you’d tried to 
rescue the kid by yourselves.” He put the pipe 
back into his mouth and thrust out his chin pug¬ 
naciously. 

At this speech, Smith, who, during the whole 
scene aboard the Greenwood had been in a re¬ 
flective, not to say mournful, mood, did a sur¬ 
prising thing. He jumped from the yawl to 
the bridge of the chaser and shouted in hot anger, 

“You damned whipper-snapper, it w r as the 
luckiest chanct of your life that the chaser caught 
you first. Look at that!” 

As he spoke, Blue Bessy, who had been rest¬ 
ing quietly under his arm, spoke also, and the 
bowl of Nick’s pipe flew into bits. 

“Put that in your pipe and smoke it,” Smith 
shouted, wagging the smoking muzzle of the re- 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 197 

volver at Nick. “And don’t tell me that I can’t 
take keer of myself.” 

But Smith’s final injunction was unnecessary. 
Callaway was not waiting to be told anything by 
anybody. He had sought the double protection 
of concealment and strong wooden bulwarks. 

“Now,” said Smith happily, after farewells 
had been exchanged with Magruder, “what do 
you say to me wrastling up a big chow for a 
celebration?” 


CHAPTER XVII 


FTER the excitements of the chase and 



the reunion with Tom, all hands aboard 


the Sea Bird were glad of the pleasant weather 
that continued to favor them as they worked 
down the coast. Hatteras, the terror of all 
landsmen, and, in fact, of many seafaring men, 
had happened to be in a friendly mood, and, as 
the other prominent capes were safely dropped 
astern, the inauspicious beginning of the cruise 
and its subsequent misfortunes were all but for¬ 
gotten. 

Tom, of course, told his shipmates all that had 
befallen him aboard the Greenwood , and in the 
following days there was an occasional reference 
to “what might have happened if it had n’t hap¬ 
pened to happen as it did.” This is a favorite 
pastime of all who have been through the stress 
of adventure. 

But for the most part the man and the three 


193 



THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 199 

boys lived in the peaceful present, lolling in 
bathing-suits on the warm deck, standing 
watches, and making up arrears in sleep and. 
meals. Tom had a portable typewriter among 
his possessions, and it came to be his chief amuse¬ 
ment to publish a daily newspaper entitled “The 
Scream of the Sea Bird.” For news he re¬ 
sorted to the radio, perfecting his skill with code, 
and there was little that went on in the outer 
world, whether of foreign or domestic events or 
sports that he did n’t catch from the ether and 
type for his friends. 

In an effort to make his journalistic endeavor 
still more successful, he illustrated it with pen- 
drawings of such subjects as “Somers wrapped 
in Thought” or “The Fight to the Death in the 
Cabin.” But, entertaining as this “gravure” 
section of the daily was, the edition could not ex¬ 
pand beyond three subscribers. 

Undiscouraged by this failure, Tom began a 
local sports section listing the scores made with 
Phil’s twenty-two repeating-rifle, and recount¬ 
ing his own exploits in the squared ring with 
Smith. Because of the cramped space and the 


200 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

uneven motion of the yawl, Tom’s instructor in 
the art of boxing could do little more than coach 
him orally; but, sitting opposite each other on 
the deck, their feet in the cockpit well, Smith 
helped Tom considerably in the difficult art of 
coordinating eye, brain, and hand. Some day, 
said Smith, Tom would be able to throw a scare 
into Callaway without the help of Blue Bessy. 

After the first day, no more was seen of the 
Greenwood . Perhaps, thought Tom, since she 
was bound for the West Indies, she had laid a 
course to pass outside of the Bahamas and 
through the Windward Passage. At any rate, 
she offered no interference with the little yawl, 
which, for prudence and lack of navigating in¬ 
struments, kept fairly close to the shore. 

When five days out of Norfolk, the Sea Bird, 
having sighted Cape Romain Lighthouse in 
early morning, headed in and entered Charleston 
before dark. As Phil said, it was a pleasure- 
cruise, after all, and there was no sense of stand¬ 
ing watches continuously. So for the better 
part of a week the yawl lay at anchor off the 
Carolina Yacht-Club, her crew sight-seeing and 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 201 

visiting on shore by day, and by night sleeping 
a full ten hours. There was maintenance work 
to be done to woodwork and rigging; and a new 
supply of gasolene was taken aboard before the 
yawl set sail again with Jacksonville as her next 
objective. 

The run to this Florida city was as uneventful 
as had been the sea days immediately preceding, 
except that on entering the mouth of the St. 
Johns River there was a heavy northeast wind 
bucking a tide and piling up the sea around the 
jetties. This spot, on the information of both 
Smith and the written word of the Coast Pilot, 
was a dangerous spot in a northeaster, and when, 
having been swept diagonally across from the 
north jetty almost to the south, the Sea Bird fi¬ 
nally came into quiet water, the boys breathed 
freely for the first time in full twenty minutes. 

“Still,” observed Phil, as he peered ahead, 
waiting expectantly for the crossover ranges to 
come into line, “if there were n’t a few minutes 
in every run when you can’t be quite sure that 
you ’re coming through with a whole skin, what 
would be the fun of cruising?” 


202 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

“It makes life ashore better fun,” granted 
Jim, “but when I saw in the Coast Pilot that if 
a vessel becomes unmanageable off those jetties 
she is almost sure to be a total loss, I kinder 
wished I had an airplane standing by.” 

“Much good a plane would do you in this 
wind,” laughed Tom. “While you are wishing, 
why not wish for a magic carpet? They come 
just as cheap.” 

“It was out of here, boys,” said Smith, pur¬ 
suing his own train of thought, “that the Alca - 
trance sailed with her cargo of gold. Somehow 
brings it nearer to you to be sailing the same 
waters at last.” 

In Jacksonville Phil, accompanied by Smith, 
secured a health-clearance from the Cuban con¬ 
sul. This was the only paper required of a 
yacht as small as the Sea Bird upon leaving 
American waters, and it, indeed, was taken more 
as an assurance against petty foreign annoyance 
than as a necessity. In the busy northern me¬ 
tropolis of the South, also, Smith ran across an 
old friend who had cruised extensively in Cuban 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 203 

waters, and the two cronies sat and exchanged 
yarns by the hour. 

From this friend Smith learned the location of 
all the little “holes-in-the-wall” into which a small 
boat may run for shelter; but his questions cov¬ 
ered so much of the Cuban coast that the other 
man never for an instant suspected unusual in¬ 
terest in one particular spot. 

In three days, when the yawl found herself 
again in deep water, tanks and larder full for 
an extended stay in Cuban and Bahama waters, 
the northeaster had blown itself out, and the 
yawl wasted a day covering fifteen miles. Con¬ 
serving gasolene at first, Phil took what little the 
elements had to offer, but at length when it 
seemed that the Gulf Stream, cutting close to 
the Florida shore, was setting them to north¬ 
ward as much as they sailed to southward, he 
resignedly made up his mind to another delay in 
port and motored a major part of the way to 
Miami. 

In that enterprising city, which bustles almost 
as much in the slack summer season as it does 


204 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

in the height of the tropical winter’s activities, 
supplies were again replenished, and once more 
the Sea Bird took her departure for her secret 
destination. 

“At least,” said Smith, on whom the delays, 
as much those forced by the weather as the others 
chosen by his youthful companions, had begun 
to pall, “we ’re shut of civilization and can get 
down to business. I s’pose if you fellers had 
had any friends in Miami we’d ’a’ been there a 
week.” 

“Oh, come now,” said Phil good-humoredly, 
“you never missed an earful of what was said 
in other ports, or a mouthful of what was placed 
on the table before you, and you can’t tell me 
you did n’t like it.” 

“I liked it all right, so far as it went, but I ’ve 
got gold on the brain, and I won’t be happy till 
I get it, as the soap ad says.” 

Yet Smith was obliged to reconcile himself to 
still further hold-ups. The weather continued 
stagnant, brooding; and it was five full days be¬ 
fore the yawl had worked down through the Old 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 205 

Bahama Channel and was beating into an east¬ 
erly wind, slowly nearing her destination. 

When at last Smith pronounced that they 
would have to look sharp as they were coming 
into the vicinity of the reef on which the Alca - 
trance lay wrecked, Tom looked over an un¬ 
broken expanse of waters and chuckled to him¬ 
self. 

“If the Greenwood finds anything like this in 
the region of Jutias Cay I wish her joy, health, 
and prosperity.” 

But the bootlegger was even farther from the 
locality mapped out by Tom than the Sea Bird 
herself. Three weeks had passed since Tom’s 
rescue, and in that time the schooner, taking ad¬ 
vantage of the steady winds that blow offshore, 
had reached her destination in Jamaica, loaded 
her hold with contrabrand cargo, and headed up 
to the Windward Passage. Fate, spinning its 
cobweb, was about to lay a strand that would link 
again the fortunes of the schooner and the yawl. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


L YING north of Cuba and east of the lower 
part of Florida there is a large archi¬ 
pelago on one of whose outlying reefs the ele¬ 
ments turned the tables on the German yacht 
Alcatrance and caused her to be “spurlos ver - 
senkt ” or sunk without trace, as many an allied 
vessel had been sunk by the piratical submarines 
of the Teutons. 

This triangular region, known as the Bahamas 
and comprising a large number of islands separ¬ 
ated from one another by shallow, sandy banks, 
may at one time have been two great islands as 
large as Cuba and Haiti. Now it throws out its 
coral-reefs and isolated sand-bars, its desolate 
cays and pinnacle-rocks, as menaces to deep- 
draft navigation. 

Picturesque in their wild beauty, the large is¬ 
lands display thin woods, dense masses of under- 

206 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 207 

growth, and bright outcroppings of lime rock. 
Cocoanuts and tropical fruits grow here and 
there in dense profusion, and at wide intervals 
a small, solitary homestead will be seen nestling 
below a gentle headland. 

Along the islands small sponging and fishing 
vessels, whose masters know every rock and tide- 
rip, thread their way with impunity; and in times 
past one of the bloody pages of the history of 
piracy was opened here by marooners who were 
equally familiar with the channels and the safe 
anchorages. But now as then big ships and 
small stranger craft, whose routes do not lead to 
New Providence or another of the inhabited is¬ 
lands, give the Bahamas a safe berth, being 
guided by San Salvador, Castle Island, and other 
prominent lighthouses. 

Unfortunately, lights are not plentiful on the 
southern edge of the Great Bahama Bank, which 
stretches at one point to within ten miles of 
Cuba and is separated therefrom by the Old Ba¬ 
hama Channel. Wherefore, after Lobos Key 
Light, lying about two hundred and fifty miles 
east of Havana, has been dropped astern, ves- 


208 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

sels bound to Haiti or the Windward Passage 
hug the Cuban shore. 

Now, the destination of the Alcatrance , as re¬ 
lated by Smith, was a rendezvous with a German 
submarine fifty miles east of Great Inagua Is¬ 
land, whose lighthouse stands as a sentinel to all 
shipping southward bound to the Caribbean Sea. 
It may be supposed that her captain, eager not 
to lose time by following the lights along the 
Cuban shore, took his departure from the vicin¬ 
ity of Lobos Key directly for Great Inagua, in¬ 
tending to pass en route no nearer than five 
miles to a cay known as San Domingo. 

This cay, hardly more than three hundred 
yards in length, is important in only one respect: 
it is the southernmost extremity of the Great 
Bahama Bank. Unlighted by night and unre¬ 
markable by day except for two small rocky 
cairns, one of which is surmounted by a short 
pole, it thrusts its speck of mangrove-covered 
sand and coral into navigable water, an obscure 
danger-spot carefully avoided by all shipmasters. 
Even more dangerous than the cay is an un¬ 
named reef lying two miles from it, which 


i 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 209 

stretches its murderous coral-ledge to northward. 

When the wind howls and the sea breaks thun- 
deringly on San Domingo Cay, the phosphor¬ 
escence in the water faintly illumines the diminu¬ 
tive island, and sharp eyes and ears may avoid it. 
But the coral-reef lies sullen and inconspicuous 
beneath the surface and reveals its broken teeth 
only when it sinks them in the planking of a 
ship’s bottom. The Alcatrance , beaten off her 
course by wind and wave, drifted to northward 
of the cay and in the dead of night grounded on 
this terror. Seas rose up to meet her, washing 
her decks of bewildered men and filling her com¬ 
partments, carrying away her masts, and grind¬ 
ing her keel to splinters; and when the storm 
abated she slid back to the very edge of the 
reef, her stern projecting over bottomless depths, 
her upper deck three fathoms down beneath the 
surface. 

Viewed in the hot tranquillity of a July after¬ 
noon, San Domingo Cay belies its evil reputa¬ 
tion, and the crew of the Sea Bird , steering north¬ 
east from Point Mangle on the Cuban Coast, 
shouted with joy when its low eminence appeared 


210 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

above the horizon. They had been set to west¬ 
ward by the current flowing toward the Gulf 
Stream, and another mile of drift might have 
lost the island entirely from their sight, thereby 
requiring hours of beating back and forth to 
find the needle in their haystack. But, a mile 
being better than a miss, they thought little of 
their error and cheerfully changed course to 
make their destination. 

The trade-wind, which had opposed their east¬ 
ward progress almost to the last, now gave up its 
fight, and under power the yawl came briskly 
up to the anchorage in the lee of the island. Re¬ 
versing his propeller, Phil killed the headway 
of the boat, and at a word to Jim the hook 
plopped over the bow and buried a fluke in clean, 
deep sand. 

For a moment the stillness of the afternoon, 
the isolation of the spot, and a feeling of at least 
partial accomplishment stilled the tongues of the 
four sailors, and they looked about them like 
men in a dream, fearful lest a spoken word 
should break the illusion. 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 211 

Then Smith, drawing a deep breath and ex¬ 
pelling it with a contented “A-a-ah!” exclaimed, 
“Well, boys, we ’re here because we ’re here.” 

“I believe you,” declared Jim, “but what we ’ll 
find here is an entirely different matter.” 

“The gloom-bird as usual,” laughed Phil. 
“Flap your wings and croak for the gentlemen.” 

“Oh, I’m not gloomy a bit. I’m just cross¬ 
ing my fingers out loud for luck,” explained 
Jim. “You can’t be too careful when there’s 
a lot of money at stake.” 

“I say,” suggested Tom, “that we make up 
our minds from the start that we won’t find 
anything. Then we won’t be disappointed if 
we pick up only ten thousand apiece, say.” 

“That’s a mighty good idea,” Phil agreed. 
“Smith, shall we do anything special to-night?” 

“There’s no time for diving; but we might 
overhaul the gear, so that we can turn to the 
first thing in the morning.” 

“Another good idea,” said Jim. “But don’t 
you suppose we ought to find the wreck before 
we dive?” 


212 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

Tom and Phil laughed. “All right, Jim,” said 
Phil. “You win the lead anchor, as usual. 
Whose turn is it to get chow?” 

Thus according to their dispositions the boys 
and their elderly companion chatted of prospects 
and the morrow’s work. Supper over—a de¬ 
licious bluefish, fresh caught and fried in the 
pan—they launched the rowboat and put over to 
the cay, looking, as Tom said, to see whether Man 
Friday had made any record in the sand. Here 
it was, Smith assumed, that the German from 
whom he obtained the chart had hauled himself 
to safety, being rescued later by a passing 
sponger. But, except for the cairns on the cay, 
there were no marks of a previous occupation 
by human beings. 

Green land-crabs scuttled through the dry 
reeds beneath the mangroves, marching and coun¬ 
termarching by companies; and around the ears 
of the intruders swarmed a hungry horde of mos¬ 
quitos. Dissuaded from their purposeless ex¬ 
ploration by these furies of the air, the quartet 
soon put back to the yawl and turned in beneath 
mosquito-bars. 


THE SEA BIRD S QUEST 213 

Silence, the silence which like the lull before 
a storm preceded the hearty snores of Smith, had 
settled in the cabin when Tom remembered the 
radio duty. 

“Hey, Phil,” he whispered, “can you make out 
the time from your wrist chronometer?” 

“Yes,” said Phil sleepily, “it’s ten of ten.” 

“Gosh,” Tom muttered, “I can just make it,” 
and, swinging out from beneath his netting, he 
switched on the electric lantern and prepared to 
receive the nightly weather-report, despite Phil’s 
sleepy remonstrance that it did not matter. 

Promptly according to schedule the message 
came from Arlington, and when it had been de¬ 
ciphered it spoke of generally fair conditions 
with only one fly in the weather-man’s ointment. 
That was a small disturbance making up off the 
Yucatan Peninsula and heading northwest. 

“Shucks,” declared Smith, when the report had 
been read aloud; “that don’t amount to a kitful 
of spuds to us. But you ’re right to keep posted. 
Can’t never tell in these parts,” 

Shortly after daylight the next morning there 
was a great stir aboard the yawl. Smith, awak- 


214 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

erring in high spirits, laid a heavy paw on Jim’s 
stomach and shouted in his ear, “Hey, do you 
think you ’ll ever amount to anything?” He 
would have put the same ticklish question to 
Phil and Tom, but they, hearing Jim’s gurgling 
call for help, were out of their bunks and over¬ 
board into the warm, clear water before Smith 
could reach them. Jim followed his companions 
over the side, but the man could not be per¬ 
suaded to swim for pleasure's sake. 

“Too many sharks,” he asserted. “First they 
ain’t here and then they is, and you can't never 
tell.” The risk was as great, of course, in div¬ 
ing for treasure, but that, in Smith’s opinion, was 
another matter. 

After a hasty breakfast, the boat was got un¬ 
der way, the dinghy towing from the stern, and 
there began a search of the reef for the sunken 
yacht. To say that it was an exciting occupa¬ 
tion would be putting it mildly, for the crew, and 
especially Smith, scarcely drew breath for min¬ 
utes on end. Leaning over the side and looking 
down at the bottom, now ten, now thirty-five 
feet beneath them, but seeming only inches under 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 215 

the Sea Bird's keel, they took in every coral 
spray over which they passed, scanned every 
wave-washed boulder, and appeared to seek the 
yacht behind each undulating sea-anemone. 

In a matter of an hour, passing slowly up the 
seaward side of the ledge, they reached its nor¬ 
thern limit and discerned a change in the water’s 
hue that betokened greater depth. 

“This looks like the end,” said Smith unbe¬ 
lievingly. “We must ’a’ missed it on the way 
up.” 

“No,” cried Tom, whose sharp eyes were fixed 
ahead. “I see shoal water again. Keep right 
on. 

In another minute the bottom rose up at a 
sharp angle from immeasurable depths, and 
again the search of waving weed and glisten¬ 
ing sand began. 

“Hah!” yelled Smith. “The reef makes in to 
eastward and there, by snum, I see the yacht. 
Dodgast my—” For the first time since the 
boys had known him, this estimable seafaring 
man bubbled over in a geyser of picturesque pro¬ 
fanity. 


CHAPTER XIX 


I N another instant the yawl was atop the 
wreck, her crew peering down at its barnacle- 
covered decks, its rusty gear and splintered mast- 
stumps, the yawning holes where had been its 
chart-house and its funnel. Serene, like the 
model of a ship in a glass bottle, it lay there, 
but slightly altered by four years’ immersion in 
the tepid sea. 

“Now,” said Smith, when a complete survey 
of the wreck had been made, “we ’ll let go the 
hook and test out this diving-gear. Before I 
go overboard I want to see that the air feeds 
proper and that you got the signals straight in 
your heads.” 

Eager hands placed the helmet on his shoulders 
and started the air-pump. The outfit was one 
intended for shallow water use and consisted, 
in addition to heavily weighted sandals, of a hel¬ 
met that fitted snug around the diver’s shoulders 

216 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 217 

and was held tight by weights. By a rubber 
hose air was pumped to the interior of the hel¬ 
met, and it escaped from under the edges when 
breathed out by the diver. Only the snugness 
of the fit and the excess pressure of air within 
the hood kept water from entering, but for 
depths up to four or five fathoms it was as ef¬ 
ficient as a full rubber suit. 

The test of the pump proving satisfactory, 
Smith removed the helmet to rehearse the sig¬ 
nals. “As I maybe said before,” he explained, 
“I’ve forgot the regular signals if I ever knew 
’em, but these will do. 

“One pull of the life-line means more air; two 
means more scope of both hose and line; three is 
take in slack and haul away; and one long and 
two short is haul away on the extra hoisting¬ 
line. Four is ’vast heaving. You answer my 
signal every time, and if for any reason you want 
me to come up you yank hard three times. If 
it ain’t safe to come up answer my signal, but 
give a lot of short jerks after it. Savvy?” 

The boys savvied, and, replacing Smith’s hel¬ 
met, they guided his feet to the boarding-ladder 


218 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

and then lowered him gently to the deck of 
the Alcatrance. Watching intently through the 
crystalline water, they saw him move his heavily 
leaded feet gingerly to right and left as if to 
feel his footing, and then walk boldly toward the 
stern, jerking his rope twice for more slack. 
He was followed by a dancing swarm of bubbles. 

Seeing him thus in perfect outline, only 
slightly distorted by the limpid water, it seemed 
almost to the boys that he could see and hear 
them as well. So strong was the illusion that 
Tom called out: 

“Hey, Smith, don’t step out on that overhang¬ 
ing stern.” Then, the futility of attempting to 
talk through twenty feet of water occurring to 
him, he turned to Phil and continued, “He might 
unbalance the wreck and go down with it.” 

But Phil laughingly reassured him. “Re¬ 
member,” he said, “that the wreck has been here 
for four years. She won’t slip off the reef un¬ 
der the extra weight of one man.” 

Jim, busy at the pump, said nothing. He had 
been charged with the duty of supplying the life- 
giving air to Smith, and as long as he had the 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 219 

duty he would be impervious to other happen¬ 
ings. As if to test his devotion, Smith suddenly 
stopped, whirled around, and waved his arm as 
violently as he could through the impeding water. 

“What’s he doing?” asked Tom. “Does he 
want to come up?” 

“He does n’t say so,” replied Phil. “I’ve 
kept the rope at the right tension, and he has n’t 
jerked it.” 

“But he must want something. Look at him 
now, trying to run forward. What do you 
think, Jim?” 

“Me? I don’t think anything. I’m pump¬ 
ing air. Let him stand on his head if he wants 
to.” 

With the rubber hose and the manila line 
curved in a semicircle behind Smith, he stopped, 
turned half around, and, catching the line above 
the bight, gave the prearranged three jerks to 
take in slack. Instantly Phil and Tom re¬ 
sponded, hauling away with a vim that started 
Smith from his feet when the line brought up 
short against his waist. As there came no four 
tugs to stop heaving, they pulled steadily and in 


220 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

half a minute Smith’s head appeared above the 
surface and his feet groped for the boarding- 
ladder. Then for the first time Jim ceased his 
efforts at the pump-handle, but Smith’s hand, 
waving frantically and sprinkling drops of water 
on the boys, inspired him to take up his task 
again. 

When he had reached the deck and the hel¬ 
met had been taken from his dripping body, 
Smith wiped a forehead on which beads of per¬ 
spiration stood out in shiny rows and said: 

“There boys, you done pretty well for a first 
try-out. Knowing how you could see me there 
on the wreck, I decided to cut up a few capers 
to find out if you would keep your mind on your 
business no matter w r hat happened; and I’m 
glad to say you did. Only don’t forget, Jim, 
that so long as I’ve got this hood on my head 
I’ve got to have air, whether I’m under water 
or not.” 

He sat down on the cabin-house, breathing 
heavily, and the boys plied him with questions. 

“What’s it like down there?” “Can you see 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 221 

plainly?” “Is it cold?” “Are you going down 
again pretty soon?” “Can I have a try at it?” 
and so on. 

Answering the last two first, Smith declared: 
“I’m going to get my breath for a spell, and 
if you want to, Phil, you might take lines down 
and run two slip-cables through rings on the deck 
of the Alcatrance. Then we can lie bow and 
stern in line with the wreck and take up our 
anchor.” 

Phil, his heart beating rapidly, strapped the 
heavy lead shoes about his feet and let the hel¬ 
met be placed about his shoulders. Then, with 
a diver’s bull’s-eye flash-light dangling from his 
waist and with two lines in his hand, he moved 
laboriously to the side of the yawl and indicated 
that he was ready. 

Down into the clear water he sank, his feet 
groping for the deck. The water, at first chill 
and then warm, semed to grow cold again as he 
went down, but his head within the helmet was 
hot, and the air-pressure on his ear-drums an¬ 
noying. Soon his feet touched the rough planks, 


222 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

and he assumed a normal, erect position and 
looked out through the round window in his hel¬ 
met. 

Although there was an abundance of light, in 
which the shadow of the yawl cutting across the 
wreck was almost as distinct as the yawl herself, 
he had the impression of being near-sighted. 
Objects around him were distorted, fantastic, 
and when he sought to pass the lines through 
ring-bolts in obedience to Smith’s instructions, 
he found that he could not at once lay hand on 
the thing he looked at. 

He was living in a new, strange world, in 
which light was refracted queerly and the force 
of gravity played little part. And he liked it. 
Moving warily along the deck, and remembering 
to give the signal for more slack, he came to the 
open space where had been the yacht’s chart- 
house. A stairway, covered with slime, led to a 
lower deck and to the captain’s state-room. 
Smith would not mind, Phil thought, if he looked 
first for the German gold; and, putting his 
thought into action, he commenced the descent 
of the stairway. 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 223 

Now the light grew dim, blotted out, and he 
was obliged to bring his flash-light into play. 
But its beam was faint, and he must depend 
chiefly on his sense of touch. Groping cau¬ 
tiously, he came to the lintel of a doorway, and 
under it he walked, his blood racing with excite¬ 
ment. Objects now were mysterious, slightly 
terrifying, and when a quick form darted past 
him, swimming its frightened way to open water, 
his heart almost stopped beating. He thought 
of octopi, terrible monsters of the deep that lurk 
in dark places, ready to clasp in their hideous em¬ 
brace any living form. Could there be any here? 

He paused a moment in indecision. Perhaps 
he would better let Smith make the first search 
of the wreck’s interior. But no. To turn back 
now would be cowardly. Taking fresh heart, 
he signaled again for more slack and groped his 
way forward. 

His shuffling feet stumbled, and he crouched 
down, shining his bull’s-eye on the deck. With 
one hand he fumbled the obstruction, coming at 
last to something round, hard, slimy. He turned 
it partly over. Grinning jaw and empty eye- 


224 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

sockets confronted him in the wan light. It was 
a human skull, attached to its skeleton, shreds of 
clothing still clinging to the picked bones. 

Phil stood upright and attempted to brush the 
perspiration from his face. His hand came in 
contact with the smooth copper of the helmet, 
and he laughed to himself. “Come,” he thought, 
“a shipwrecked German is nothing to get scared 
about. I didn’t expect to look in on a living 
crew playing with mermaids.” And stepping 
over the skeleton he came to something which his 
sense of touch revealed to be a desk. 

On it was a wooden box, padlocked, its cor¬ 
ners bound with metal. It looked heavy, but to 
Phil’s surprise it rose from the desk at the lift 
of two fingers. 

“Oh,” he said to himself, in disappointment, 
“I thought it might be gold. But there’s noth¬ 
ing in it.” Then, recalling that the buoyancy 
of water makes submerged objects light, he 
added: “I guess I ’ll take it along for luck. 
Now, what next?” 

As he stood, irresolute, he felt three violent 
tugs on the line. “Hello,” he said, or thought 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 225 

(for he was not quite sure whether he actually 
voiced the words that came to his mind), “they 
must think I’ve been down long enough. And 
I don’t know but what I have. My head feels 
a little woozy.” 

Tucking the box under one arm, he answered 
the signal and followed his rope to the foot of 
the companionway. Suddenly realizing that his 
body had become thoroughly chilled, he was start¬ 
ing rapidly to mount the steps when he felt a 
series of agitated pulls on his life-line. 

“Now what’s up?” he thought, and leaned 
backward slightly for a clear view of the water 
above him. Nothing seemed to be amiss. The 
sun beat brightly through the clear water, and 
above his head the trim hull of the yawl, throw¬ 
ing a dancing, diagonal shadow, floated serenely. 
He pulled three times on the line to indicate that 
he wanted to come up. Three answering pulls, 
but again the agitated jerking. 

And suddenly he understood. Above him, not 
five feet from his head, there swam the ugly form 
of a shark. It disappeared from view, but al¬ 
most instantly came back. Gone again from 


226 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

sight, it returned, performing a vigilant sentry- 
go above its human victim. 

Phil’s heart rose to his throat as the full dan¬ 
ger of his predicament came over him. Unused 
tt> diving, he could not hope to remain submerged 
much longer. Already the pressure in his ears, 
aggravated by his excitement, seemed unbear¬ 
able, and he breathed with difficulty. Strangu¬ 
lation awaited him if he remained below, and a 
still more frightful death if he left the security 
of the companionway. His brain reeled. 

On the deck of the Sea Bird the emotions of 
his companions were hardly less poignant. 
Smith had first signaled for Phil to come to the 
surface because, far away to the eastward, he 
had seen the betraying ripple that indicates the 
approach of the trade-wind. But then, peering 
anxiously over the side, he had observed the com¬ 
ing of a twelve-foot shark. Instantly he had 
given the stop-signal, hoping that the monster 
would go about whatever business it was that 
had called it to the vicinity of the wreck. This 
hope was short-lived. 



There swam the ugly form of a shark 








THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 227 

As the shark began its purposeful beat back 
and forth over its quarry, Smith lost his usual 
coolness and declared: “My God! We ’ve got 
to do something to get that man-eater away from 
here!” 

“How about beating on the water with an 
oar?” asked Tom, bringing to mind a device that 
he had somewhere read about. 

“That won’t do it,” said Smith. Realizing 
that his excitement must not be communicated 
to Jim, hard at work at the pump-handle, he 
thought a moment and added more quietly, 
“But I think I know what will.” 

He dropped to the cabin, rummaged in the 
galley, and almost immediately reappeared on 
deck, a cylindrical oatmeal-box in one hand, and 
Blue Bessy, which he had snatched up from his 
bunk, in the other. Emptying the box, he tossed 
it over the side. Brilliantly hued, alluring as a 
bait, the box bobbed twice and then floated 
placidly astern. But the shark, intent on other 
game, paid it no heed. 

Picking up the deck-lantern, the first heavy 


228 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

object available, Smith threw it overboard, and 
anxiously watched it twist and turn across the 
path of the shark. 

“Hah!” he exclaimed. “He sees it. Maybe 
now he ’ll see the box.” 

The shark diverted by the gleaming lantern, 
did evidently glance aloft, for now he altered 
course and slowly, leisurely, swam to the surface. 
For an instant his dorsal fin cut water, but Smith, 
holding the revolver ready, withheld his fire. 
Then the ugly snout of the shark came up to the 
oatmeal-box, and Blue Bessy spoke twice, more 
venemously than ever she had done. There was 
a violent splash, and the shark dived down, 
down, into the darkening depths, rapidly di¬ 
minishing until it seemed no larger than a sun- 
fish. Then it was lost to sight. 

But the crew of the Sea Bird paid scant at¬ 
tention to its flight. Phil, they could see, had 
fallen forward on the steps and gave no answer 
to Smith’s signal on the line. 

“Slowly now,” said Smith. “He’s all in, but 
we must n’t bring him up too fast on account 
of the changing pressure. Easy does it.” 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 229 

Carefully the limp form of Phil was hauled 
up toward the surface. But at the last he was 
brought with a rush, for, glancing to one side, 
his companions saw not one but half a dozen 
sharks rapidly assembling, attracted by the in¬ 
jury to their fellow. 

“Better his ears than his life,” Smith cried. 
“Heave ho.” With a final pull they lifted the 
unconscious boy from the water. As they did 
so, the school of sharks, baffled, disappointed, 
circled beneath the yawl. 

Phil, his helmet off, was found to be uncon¬ 
scious and bleeding slightly from the ears. His 
face, beaded with perspiration, had none of the 
ruddy look that goes with overheating, but 
was, on the contrary, livid and seemingly life¬ 
less. 

Jim and Tom, telling Smith that they prob¬ 
ably knew this business better than he, worked 
over Phil coolly and scientifically, and in a few 
minutes his color flowed slowly back and he 
opened his eyes. 

“Am I all right?” he asked vaguely. “That 
shark.” He closed his eyes again. 


230 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

“You Te not all right yet, but you will be 
soon,” said Jim. “Take it easy.” 

In deep anxiety Smith and the two boys gazed 
down at their companion, heedless of all else 
but his recovery. Presently he spoke again. 

“Say,” he whispered. “I had a box of gold, 
but I had to drop it. Gosh!” 

“Shucks!” said Smith, and he voiced the sin¬ 
cere opinion of his shipmates as well. “We don’t 
give a hoot about the gold. Get better. That’s 
all we want.” 


CHAPTER XX 


I N time Phil did get better, but, although by 
the next day his normal strength was re¬ 
turned, it was many days before he had out¬ 
grown a slight deafness or had shaken off the 
buzzing sensation inside his head. His diving 
experiences were over, and, as Smith forcefully 
declared, those of his shipmates would never be¬ 
gin so long as he had anything to say about it. 

Neither did Smith himself go down again that 
day. The trade-wind, more familiarly known 
to Smith as “the Doctor,” came along before 
Phil was himself again, and his companions 
sailed across the easterly breeze to the anchorage 
in the lee of San Domingo Cay. There they 
made themselves snug, and Tom, whose turn it 
was to cook, opened cans of clam chowder and 
(as a special treat) a tin of real butter, and fed 
Phil on broth and toasted crackers. 

Even without the interference of the Doctor, 

231 


232 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

it is doubtful if Smith would have dived again. 
Sharks no doubt hovered about the wreck all 
day, and the continued presence of the yawl 
would only have excited their curiosity the more. 
Despite the prevailing belief to the contrary, 
not all of them are cowardly, and when collected 
in numbers they are certainly not to be trifled 
with. 

But on the following morning, before the wind, 
which had died some time after sunset, had 
sprung up again, the Sea Bird made off to the 
scene of the wreck. Again the sea was glassy 
smooth, and still the Alcatrance lay poised on 
the edge of the reef. The Sea Bird's deck- 
lantern, standing upright on her deck, height¬ 
ened the impression that she was only waiting for 
her crew to awaken and tumble out for their 
morning work. 

Smith, practical, hard-headed sailor that he 
was, wasted no thought on the romantic, lifelike 
appearance of the wreck. 

“First off,” he declared, when the yawl had 
come to anchor, “I ’ll get that lantern. It done 
us a good turn yesterday. And after that I ’ll 


/ 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 233 

moor the boat to the wreck and come up to help 
you get the hook up. The Doctor might come 
in a hurry and catch us with our shirt-tail out.” 

“Will you send up that box that I dropped in 
the companionway?” asked Phil. “We can 
break it open before you go down again.” 

“Right,” replied Smith. “Now I’m ready 
for the helmet.” 

In a few minutes he stepped over the side and 
was again lowered carefully to the deck of the 
Alcatrance. No sharks were in evidence, nor 
did they appear again that day. In the hot sun¬ 
light and clear transparency of the water it 
seemed to Phil that his narrow escape of yester¬ 
day must have been a dream. 

Smith, having done the things he set out to 
do, was soon on deck again, the metal-bound box 
lying temptingly before him. His helmet was 
removed, and when he had taken a few deep 
breaths of refreshing air he unstrapped his heavy 
sandals and gave the boys a hand with getting the 
anchor aboard. “I think,” he observed, “that 
we’d better buoy our lines when we get through 
to-day, so that we can pick up the moorings to- 


234 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

morrow without all this trouble. Now for the 
box.” 

Phil, who had a proprietary interest in this 
mysterious chest, secured chisel and hammer 
from the tool-drawer, and in a few minutes its 
hinges gave way and he lifted the water-soaked 
lid. Beneath it was a mass of dark silt. 

“Looks like chocolate,” said Jim, poking his 
finger into the box. “Have a cupful.” 

“Hands off,” cried Phil excitedly. “This is 
my party.” 

“I ’ll bet,” said Tom, “that it’s nothing but 
mud.” 

Smith looked on in mild amusement, and when 
Phil, rummaging to the bottom of the chest, 
brought up handful upon handful of papers, 
pamphlets, and lead-covered books, he declared: 

“I thought so. It’s his confidential papers 
that he did n’t have time to give ‘the deep six.’ 
You won’t find no gold there.” 

“Well, Phil,” said Jim, a tantalizing grin 
twitching the corners of his mouth, “I hope 
you ’re satisfied. You said this was your party, 
and you ’ve had it. Whatever we find from now 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 235 

on divides among the three of us. You ’re out.” 

'‘Don’t pick on a sick man,” replied Phil, 
successfully mimicking the querulous tones of an 
invalid. “I’m far from well, and I’ve got to 
be treated gently.” So saying, he shot out a 
playful hand and flicked the end of Jim’s nose. 
The brotherly free-for-all that this invitation 
was sure to start ashore was checked by Smith. 

“Here,” he declared, “no horse-play. I’m 
going down again. Where’s my jimmy?” 

The “jimmy” was not, as might be supposed, 
the mate of Blue Bessy, but a long steel bar, 
flattened at one end and bent for exerting pow¬ 
erful leverage. With it Smith intended to force 
open drawers or doors that resisted the unaided 
pull of the hand. 

Securing it by a thong to his wrist, and get¬ 
ting into the diving-outfit, he was soon on the 
wreck, a zigzagging cloud of bubbles following 
him as he walked to the companionway. In a 
few seconds he was lost from sight, and only the 
tension of the life-line and the light film of air 
filtering through the companionway revealed his 
activities to the boys. 


236 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

The excitement of yesterday and the disap¬ 
pointment of discovering that Phil’s gold-chest 
contained only worthless documents had some¬ 
what dulled the edge of their enthusiasm. 
Moreover, the responsibility of Smith’s life as he 
worked beneath the water sobered them, and at 
first the three boys watched or pumped in quiet 
earnestness, as if no more than a lost anchor had 
been at stake. Nevertheless, as the minutes 
passed and Smith remained below, their imagi¬ 
nations were busy. 

In his mind’s eye Phil saw the diver step over 
the skeleton of the German captain and grope 
blindly to the desk to pry its drawers open, saw 
him feeling hopefully around the bulkheads in 
search of the safe which he knew to be hidden 
behind a wood partition. Saw him, indeed, 
crouch before the safe, and, with his face pressed 
close to the dial, turn the combination, and, open¬ 
ing the iron door, reach in and bury his hands in 
double eagles. 

A tug came on the line. “Gosh!” he said. 
“He’s found it.” And then his thought snapped 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 237 

back to actuality. “No,” he amended, “he wants 
more air. Pump harder, boys.” 

The bubbles seeped through in whiter mass, 
and again Phil let his fancy wander. Comfort¬ 
ably situated in life though the boys were, the 
thought of nearly a quarter of a million dollars 
to be divided among four almost staggered his 
imagination. How big a pile would it make? 
What should they do with it aboard the yawl, 
and how should they spend it when they reached 
home? 

Jim and Tom must have shared Phil’s dreams, 
for again there came the demand for more air. 
“Here,” said Phil, “we ’re wool-gathering. 
Let’s keep our minds on the job and spend the 
money after we get it.” 

Thereupon the trio paid close heed to their 
duty, and a subsequent signal from Smith to 
take in slack was promptly obeyed. Soon the 
round top of his helmet was seen at the foot 
of the stairway. But a signal for more slack in¬ 
dicated that he was returning again to the cabin. 
Once, twice, three times, more, he appeared to 


238 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

view, and eventually there came a signal that 
had not been felt before except in practice. 

“One long and two short,” said Phil to Tom. 
“That means haul away on the extra hoisting¬ 
line. You do it, while I keep on tending the 
life-line.” 

Tom pulled with a will, and up from the com¬ 
panionway came a small, irregularly shaped 
bundle. 

“It’s not very heavy,” said Tom. “I wonder 
what it is.” But as it neared the surface of the 
water it became heavier and heavier, and finally 
Tom asked for Phil’s assistance. 

“I can’t help you now,” Phil asserted. “He 
wants to come up. Belay your line to a cleat 
and lend a hand here.” 

Hence Smith reached the yawl’s deck in ad¬ 
vance of his bundle, and, his helmet removed, 
looked inquiringly around for it. 

“Where’s my package?” he asked. “I don’t 
know what it is, but I found a lot of bars in the 
closet with the safe, and I thought they might 
be worth looking at in daylight.” 

“Here we are,” replied Tom, as Phil helped 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 239 

him raise the package from the water and lower 
it to the cockpit well. “It looks to me like 
little bricks.” 

“Or pig lead,” supplemented Jim, dropping 
into the cockpit and taking up a bar of heavy 
metal. In truth the bars, brick-shaped, and en¬ 
crusted with scale, looked like anything one cared 
to imagine. 

Jim scraped the bar with the edge of his 
pocket-knife, and suddenly gave vent to a yell 
that seemed to shake the very timbers of the 
yawl. 

“Hai!” he shouted. “It’s gold. Look, it’s 
yellow, and it shines where the blade scratched 
it. Golly, we ’ve got it!” 

Short though Jim’s speech was, it went un¬ 
heeded by his companions. At his first shout 
of joy each had picked up a bar of metal, and 
each was making the discovery for himself. 
For a minute or so three, at least, of the ecstatic 
shipmates uttered as many exclamations of joy 
as would be voiced by a whole shipful of men 
under any other circumstances. They yodled 
and cheered, and when their throats were hoarse 


240 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

the boys rolled about on deck in glee, each hug¬ 
ging an ingot of the precious metal in his arms. 

For there was not the slightest doubt that 
they had found treasure. Not the gold dollars 
they had come looking for, but gold in bulk that 
was every whit as valuable. By careful and re¬ 
peated count there were twenty-four bars, each 
weighing about four pounds, and worth, accord¬ 
ing to Smith’s rough calculation, a little more 
than a thousand dollars apiece. 

“Twenty-five thousand dollars,” said Phil, 
when his first ecstacy had somewhat abated. 
“That’s good for a start, anyhow. Were there 
any more of these ‘bricks’ in the cabin, Smith?” 

“No,” replied Smith, who, although no less 
elated than the boys, had maintained better com¬ 
posure. “The cupboard was bare when I left it, 
except for the safe, and I found that the com¬ 
bination was rusted tight.” 

“I suppose,” suggested Tom, “that the gold 
dollars are in the safe. Can you get it open all 
right?” 

“Not under water, but I think I ’ll be able to 
pry it loose from the bulkhead a little later.” 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 241 

“Fine dope. How about going down right 
now?” 

But Smith refused. “No-siree-bob,” he stated 
emphatically. “Enough is enough. I’m plenty 
anxious to get the gold, but I want to live so’s 
I can enjoy it when I do get it. We ’ll do that 
to-morrer.” 

And he added: “We might as well lie here 
till the Doctor comes. Then we can buoy our 
lines and slip over to the cay. I’m through for 
the day.” 

Of the three boys, Phil alone could rightly ap¬ 
preciate why Smith in his unaccustomed condi¬ 
tion did not care to dive again that day, but the 
other two acquiesced in his decision with perfect 
good nature, and there the matter rested. 

The next few minutes were employed in stow¬ 
ing the gold ingots (except one, which was kept 
out for repeated inspection) beneath the floor¬ 
boards of the cabin, and when the Doctor paid 
his morning call all hands were ready to cut over 
to the lee of the cay and there loaf and discuss 
the morrow’s prospects. 

There seemed to them no cloud on the horizon 


242 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

—and the metaphor, suggested aloud by Tom, 
reminded him to receive the weather-report at 
noon—and after a day spent in conversation and 
desultory ship’s work, they turned in, happy and 
hopeful. 

Late that night, when Tom had again re¬ 
corded a routine weather-report and the yawl 
lay in a silence whose perfection was broken only 
by Smith’s snores, Destiny darted its shuttle 
across the warp of life. Into the Sea Bird's 
cloth of gold it wove remorselessly a strand of 
baser metal. 

With the dying breath of the trade-wind a 
stranger vessel, unlighted, silent as the grave, 
crept past the sleeping yawl and came to rest 
in the anchorage. 


CHAPTER XXI 


S MITH, as usual, was first awake. 

For a moment he lay, drowsily watching 
golden reflections of the water dance through 
the open ports to the roof of the cabin. In just 
such fashion dreams of gold had danced before 
his sleeping consciousness. 

“Ho hum, boys,” he yawned, thrusting his 
scrawny legs to the deck and sitting up in his 
bunk. “If we stir lively we can get that safe 
up to-day.” 

“Right,” said the three boys, almost in one 
voice. And, rolling from beneath their net¬ 
tings, they slipped their bathing-suits off and 
started to the deck to swim. 

“You boys wears swimming-suits the fun¬ 
niest I ever see,” drawled Smith. “Keep ’em 
on day and night and take ’em off when you go 
in the water. Must have a little Chink blood in 
your veins.” 


243 


244 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

“So far as that goes,” returned Jim, over his 
shoulder, “you wear trou and shirt by day and 
underclothes only at night. You ’re not quite 
civilized yourself.” 

Smith, still sitting on his bunt, was searching 
for a fitting retort when there came a low whistle 
from Phil, the first on deck. Immediately the 
three boys dropped down the ladder again and 
began putting on their swimming-clothes. 

“No swim just now,” said Phil; “there’s a 
strange sloop here.” 

Smith rose and pushed his way past the boys 
to the cockpit. “By snum,” he declared, 
“there’s no diving to-day, either. Bear a hand 
getting this gear out of sight.” 

As yet there was no sign of life on the sloop. 
To eastward of the Sea Bird and about fifty 
yards nearer the island she lay, pot-bellied, her 
sides streaked with dirt, sails carelessly furled, 
the rigging on her single mast frayed and flimsy. 

“A Bahama sponger, proberly,” pronounced 
Smith, when the diving-outfit had been placed 
below. “Hope she don’t happen to run across 
them buoys we left on the reef.” 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 245 

“Cracky!” exclaimed Jim; “we’d better get 
’em in this evening.” 

“No, it’s better not to pay no attention to 
them. We’ll see how the cat jumps.” 

The preparation of breakfast was well under 
way before the cat showed any signs of stirring, 
let alone jumping. Then a black, kinky head, 
poked out of the cabin hatch, was sighted by the 
watchful Smith. 

“Pshaw,” he said. “It’s a Bahama nigger. 
I ’ll go over and have a talk with him.” 

Getting into the dinghy, accompanied by Phil, 
he rowed near the sloop and hailed her with a 
cheerful good morning. 

“Mornin’, white mahn. Hit certainly is a 
hambiguous mornin’,” came the response, in the 
curious mixture of negro and cockney dialect 
that is typical of the British West Indian 
darkies. “What brings you ’ere so early if I 
may harsk?” 

“Why,” replied Smith, “I was going to ask 
you the same. We’re just cruising and fish- 
mg. 

The negro, who had left the hatchway and 


246 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

seated himself on deck, his legs hanging over 
the side, threw back his head and laughed 
heartily. 

“That is a coincidence, sir. Hit’s hexackly 
what we ’re doing, ’cept that we ’re fishin’ and 
cruisin’. Sam”—he turned toward the cabin 
and raised his voice—“git on deck, you lazy 
nigger. Some white folks has come to visit us.” 

Although Sam, followed by a small boy,' came 
on deck in response to the hail, grinning from ear 
to ear and seemingly delighted to greet the 
strangers, Smith gruffly declined the invitation. 

“Thanks, no,” he declared, somewhat nettled 
by the laughter. “Our breakfast’s nearly 
ready. Figure on staying here long?” 

“Maybe two, maybe three days. But say, 
mister, you don’t want to be stayin’ out ’ere in 
that little yatcht. This surely is a ticklish spot 
in a blow.” 

“Thanks. We ’re just resting up for a day 
or two before going over to Cuba. Get much 
fish hereabouts?” 

Again the negro laughed, as if at the fun¬ 
niest of jokes. “I’m merely larfing,” he ex- 



THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 247 


plained, when he could get his breath, “because 
we ’re restin’ also. As a matter of fact, fishin’ 
is habsolutely rotten.” 

Thoroughly out of sorts with what he con¬ 
sidered the evasiveness and insolence of the Ba- 
haman, Smith dipped his oars and rowed back 
to the yawl. 

“See you again,” he called. “Look us over if 
you feel like it.” To Phil he added: “We 
might as well tell ’em to. They ’ll be hanging 
around us, anyway.” 

Breakfast was a meal from which all the zest 
had been extracted. Instead of a morning spent 
on the reef, the crew of the yawl looked forward 
to a day of idleness, passed under the surveil¬ 
lance of the native sloop. Whatever the in¬ 
tentions of the craft—and her crew seemed in¬ 
nocuous enough—there could be no diving while 
she was on the spot. Nor did it seem to Smith 
advisable to arouse suspicion by asking or even 
forcing her to go away. There was nothing to 
do but wait. 

Before the heat of the summer sun became in¬ 
tense, Smith and Tom went ashore for a little 




248 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

sparring-practice on a stretch of smooth, hard 
sand. When they returned they found the 
darky boy half in and half out of the sloop’s 
skiff, inspecting the yawl with sleepy-eyed curi¬ 
osity. He would not step aboard, but clung to 
the main shrouds, monkey-like, and peered 
silently through the port-holes at the cabin’s 
interior. Once only during a visit of half an 
hour he spoke. 

“Where’s yo’ hengine?” he asked, and ap¬ 
peared surprised when informed that it was in¬ 
stalled behind the companionway ladder. 

“What’s yo’ speed?” he next asked. 

“About six knots under power,” Jim replied, 
“what’s it to you?” 

“Nothin’, boss,” returned the colored 
boy. Slipping down into the skiff, he picked 
up an oar and sculled leisurely back to the 
sloop. 

“Well,” said Smith, when he was out of ear¬ 
shot. “They’ve found out what they want to 
know about us. But I don’t savvy it.” 

The next morning, however, the secret came 
out. Appearing on deck for the first time, the 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 249 

Sea Bird’s crew found the skipper of the sloop 
lying alongside in his small boat.” 

“Mornin’, white folks,” he greeted them, in¬ 
dicating a brace of pineapples, which he had laid 
on the yawl’s deck. “Brought you a couple of 
pines for yo’ breakfast.” 

“Thanks, skipper,” said Smith. “Sure you 
won’t need ’em yourself?” 

“That’s hall right, sir. I has plenty of them. 
Say, mister, I thought yesterday you was a 
revenooer; but lor dee man, you can’t catch rum¬ 
runners wiv a six-mile craft.” 

It was now Smith’s turn to laugh. “So that’s 
what was eating you,” he exclaimed. “No, I 
tell you we ’re just cruising and fishing, mostly 
cruising. Calculate to move on in a day or so.” 

“Erhuh. Ef I was you, sir, I’d move right 
smart. I don’t like the looks of the weather hat 
all.” 

The daily trade had not yet arisen, and Smith 
looked aloft at a fine sky here and there flecked 
with filmy clouds. It looked anything but bad 
to him, although he forbore saying so. Instead, 
he asked: 


250 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

“How about you, Cap? What will you do if 
it blows?” 

“Me? Oh, I know hexcellent places in which 
to put to. But I farncy you are not so well 
hacquainted with the ’arbors.” 

“You ’re right about that, and we ’re certainly 
obliged to you for the tip—and the pines.” 

When, a few minutes later, the Bahaman re¬ 
turned, rewarded by a tin of tobacco from 
Smith’s store, his visit was discussed from every 
angle. The final opinion of the four shipmates 
was that the negro was interested in revenue of¬ 
ficers from the outside of the fence, and that he 
had come to this remote spot to keep an appoint- 
men with a whisky-smuggler. Although con¬ 
vinced that the Sea Bird was not an official 
craft, the negro would be glad to have her out of 
the way, and so had prophesied bad weather, un¬ 
aware, of course, that the yawl was in touch by 
radio with the weather-bureau. 

The day, up to four in the afternoon, was a 
duplicate of the preceding one. Tom, whose in¬ 
terest in boxing had not flagged since it was first 
inspired by his thrashing on the Greenwood , 


THE SEA BIRD S QUEST 251 

went ashore with Smith for a short go on the 
sand. Gloves had been purchased as far back as 
Charleston, and there were many light marks 
of them on Smith’s naked torso when the bout 
ended. 

“The kid’s getting good,” said Smith, when 
they returned aboard. “He’s got my number 
already.” 

“Fine dope,” Jim responded. “Let him try 
a round or two with this five-pound beauty,” 
and he indicated a silvery fish that had just 
yielded to the fatal lure of his bait. 

After the noonday meal, the boys lay in their 
bunks and read. They had long since exhausted 
the conversational topic that the sloop first af¬ 
forded them, and they mentioned her now only to 
wish that she would move on and leave them 
to their diving operations. Toward four o’clock, 
Smith, having no eye for reading, was seated in 
the cockpit industriously oiling and polishing 
Blue Bessy when he glanced idly to seaward and 
came to his feet with an oath. 

Beyond the cay, a schooner, her sails wing and 
wing, came boiling down the trade-wind. 


252 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

“Suffering cats!” said Smith. “The bad 
penny ’s turned up.” 

No need to say more. The boys, on deck at 
once, recognized the Greenwood at first glance, 
and, spellbound, saw her clear the island and 
claw up to the anchorage. As she passed them 
close aboard, Nick Callaway, standing beside the 
helmsman, screwed his face into a malicious gri¬ 
mace and indulged himself in a loud triumphant 
whistle. Being occupied with bringing the 
schooner to anchor, he said nothing. 

Phil, speaking at length, voiced the opinion 
of the three boys: “The game’s up now. We 
might as well bid the rest of the gold good-by 
and go home.” 

But Smith would have none of it. “No, sir,” 
he argued. “They got good reason to be afeard 
of me and my pal, and they dassn’t touch us.” 

“They may not touch us, but they know per¬ 
fectly well why we ’re here, and they can stick 
around until our food-supply runs out,” said 
Tom. “Somers may be a fool, but he is n’t go¬ 
ing to lose a fortune that can be had for the tak¬ 
ing.” 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 253 

“But he can’t take it, I tell you. They ain’t 
got no diving-gear, and they ’ll only get ours 
over my dead body.” 

“They outnumber us,” Jim pointed out, 
“about three to one, counting the niggers. It 
does n’t look good to me.” 

“Well, if you want to run away like a pack 
of cowards, go ahead and run. I might ’a’ 
known you could n’t expect anything from a 
pa’cel of kids.” 

It was the first time in a month’s association 
that the boys had seen Smith lose his temper, and 
instinctively they drew away from him and 
closer together, as if forming a defensive alliance. 
But when Phil spoke there was restraint and 
dignity in his tone. 

“I don’t think you have any right or reason 
to say that. But since you did say it I will show 
you that it is not fear but common horse sense 
that makes me want to leave this place. We will 
stay here to-night as you wish, and to-morrow 
when we see what the Greenwood is going to do 
we can decide our own course of conduct. Is 
that satisfactory?” 


254 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

Entirely mollified, Smith declared: “Pshaw, 
boys, I did n’t mean to claim that you was scared. 
But I hate to let that gold go when it’s almost 
in our hands. The Greenwood proberly came 
here to get a load of whisky from the sloop, and 
they know me well enough not to try any 
monkey-business. You mark my words, they ’ll 
clear out in the morning.” 

“At any rate,” said Phil, “we 11 stand a deck- 
watch to-night so that we sha’n’t all be mur¬ 
dered in our bunks.” 

Peace aboard the yawl being restored in this 
fashion, the four sat by while daylight lasted and 
with great interest watched the activities aboard 
the new-comers. Following a call made by the 
Bahaman and a protracted conversation with 
Somers on the schooner’s quarter-deck, the black¬ 
bodied motor-boat that had figured in Tom’s 
capture was lowered to the water and started on 
the first of a series of trips between the sloop 
and the schooner. 

“There,” said Smith, when it became evident 
that the boat w r as receiving a cargo from the 
sloop’s hold. “Did n’t I tell you it was whisky? 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 255 

They ’ll have it all aboard to-night, and you ’ll 
see for yourselves that the Greenwood will clear 
out with to-morrer’s wind.” 

“Looks like it,” agreed Phil. “But did you 
notice that the wind has n’t died down this eve¬ 
ning as usual? It’s slowly swinging around to 
northwestward. ’ ’ 

“So it is. Maybe that colored feller was 
right after all about the weather.” 

For an hour after dark the intermittent put- 
putting of the motor-boat’s engine continued, 
and lanterns shining on schooner and sloop 
showed that work was still in progress. Then 
silence, broken only by the fitful wind, dropped 
over the anchorage. 

“Now,” said Smith to himself, sitting out the 
first watch in the darkness of the cockpit, “is 
the time for that gang to start anything if 
they ’re going to.” He caressed the butt of his 
revolver, and added grimly, “Let ’em come.” 

Below him the cabin of the yawl was in dark¬ 
ness, save for the restricted beam of the electric 
lantern, for Phil and Jim were sleeping while 
Tom sat up to receive the ten o’clock report. 


256 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

Suddenly across the blackness of the night a 
still blacker shadow passed. Like a flash Smith 
drew Blue Bessy from her holster and took aim. 
But a soft, leisurely voice, floating down the 
wind, relaxed the tension of his trigger-finger. 

“We ’re goin’, boss,” called the negro skipper 
of the sloop. “You white folks kin ride it hout 
’ere ef you want to, but I is leavin’ this place.” 

Like a bat swooping headlong into its cave, 
the sloop disappeared from view. Smith waited, 
disquieted by the departure of the local boat, dis¬ 
turbed that in the afternoon he had combated 
the wishes of his shipmates. Having had his 
way, he regretted that he had taken a stand 
that might bring them into danger. 

His reflections were cut short by a low call 
from Tom: “Smith; boys; Arlington is send¬ 
ing out a hurricane-warning to all shipping in 
the Caribbean. A violent disturbance is mak¬ 
ing up near Trinidad, moving west-northwest 
toward—somewhere. Static is perfectly rotten, 
but I caught most of the message.” 

“All hands unmoor ship,” said Smith, without 
an instant’s hesitation, “and we ’ll make Nipe 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 257 

Bay on the Cuban coast. A harbor’s none too 
good in a hurricane, but we have a better chance 
for our lives there than here in the open sea. 
Make it snappy.” 

Nimble fingers tore the covers from the sails 
and hoisted main and mizzen. Smith’s powerful 
muscles on the capstan-bar walked the yawl up 
to the anchor, and almost before the sleep was 
out of Phil’s and Jim’s eyes the hook was aweigh 
and the jib had caught the wind. 

“Say, boys,” said Tom, as the yawl gathered 
headway, “I think we ought to warn the Green¬ 
wood . They ’re gone goslings if they stay here, 
with the wind blowing right on the cay.” 

From the Greenwood's motor-boat, no more 
than twenty-five yards away, came the answer to 
his suggestion. The bellowing voice of Somers 
shouted, “Heave to, there, damn yer, or I ’ll plug 
yer full of lead.” Almost immediately the call 
was followed by the flash and crack of a rifle. 

Paddling quietly through the night, the men 
from the Greenwood were attempting to take 
the yawl by force. 

“Warn them fellers?” asked Smith, a note of 


258 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

exultation in his voice. “My pal will do it for 
me.” And he emptied his revolver into the spot 
from which the rifle-flash had come. 

Almost shot for shot the rifle answered, one 
bullet splintering the mizzen and another clip¬ 
ping a hole in the jib above Jim’s head where 
he was at work with the anchor. But the rest 
of the shots went wild, and Blue Bessy had the 
final say. There came another bellow from Som¬ 
ers—this time a cry of pain—and the duel ended. 

“Well,” said Smith, when he had counted 
noses and found that none of his shipmates was 
injured, “there’s no telling how it would ’a’ 
ended if we’d been lying there. But I declare 
I’m glad we ’re all going to Cuba together.” 


CHAPTER XXII 


T HAT night, while the Sea Bird winged 
her way to safety at a protected mooring, 
the Greenwood lay at the anchorage, Somers 
nursing a painful flesh-wound in his left arm, 
and Callaway, keeping judiciously from his 
sight, lamenting the failure of the raiding party. 

The next morning, observing that the wind, 
although still from the same unfavorable quar¬ 
ter, was but slightly stronger than it had been, 
Nick decided to make one more stand. Going 
to Somers’s quarters before breakfast and find¬ 
ing the captain in a sullen, resentful mood, he 
inquired solicitously as to his health. Then Cal¬ 
laway fired the first gun of his new assault. 

“I think that nigger was nutty, Cap,” he de¬ 
clared. “The wind’s still nor’west, but there 
ain’t anything to worry about.” 

“You don’t see me worrying, do yer?” 

“No,” said Nick, attempting flattery, “it takes 

259 


260 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

a lot to worry you, Cap. I was thinking maybe 
you’d like to let me take the tender and run 
along the reef to see where that wreck is at.” 

“Take another think. You got me into this,” 
he pointed to his bandaged arm, “and I’m 
through. I got an able ship, but I ain’t going 
to stay here, not after the sloop and the yawl 
cleared out in such a hurry.” 

“Aw, the yawl was just trying to throw us 
off the track. Come on deck a minute and see 
for yourself what the weather’s like.” 

Following Nick on deck, Somers was, for a 
moment, impressed with the fineness of the day. 
The air was as clear as crystal, and far away to 
the southward could be seen the peaks of moun¬ 
tains on the Cuban shore. 

“You can’t beat that for weather,” w T as Nick’s 
comment. “But even if you do want to clear 
out without making a try for that gold, that 
two hundred thousand dollars in gold, it 
would n’t do no harm to let me run along the 
reef and find the wreck. Wouldn’t take more 
than a coupla hours, and then the next time we 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 261 

come down here we could have a diving-outfit 
along.” 

For a moment Somers wavered, as he always 
did when under Nick’s influence. Then, “No,” 
he declared, “if there was any gold there the Sea 
Bird would ’a’ got it.” 

Trying to dispose of each objection as it came 
up, Nick said, “She would n’t ’a’ been here when 
we showed up if she had the gold.” 

“Well, she ’ll get it later, then.” 

“Say, listen, Cap. Be reasonable. While 
we ’re standing here talking I might be on the 
way up the reef.” 

But here there came an interruption from a 
member of the crew. The bull-necked, long- 
armed Swede whom Nick had reprimanded for 
not keeping closer watch on the submarine- 
chasers stepped up and said: 

“Clear weather down here, Cap, is a bad sign. 
I ban through one hurricane, and it look yust 
like this the day before she blow.” 

“Say, you,” said Nick, his anger, which had 
smoldered under Somers’s indifference, now 


262 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

blazing up, “you close your yawp. You don’t 
know a hurricane from a thunder-squall.” 

But the Swede’s remark had its effect on 
Somers. 

“Pipe down, Callaway,” he cried. “I’m run¬ 
ning this ship. Get the men ready for getting 
under way, or, by God, you ’ll hear from me.” 

Disappointed, infuriated, Nick’s self-control 
completely left him. “You ’ll hear from me” 
he stormed. “You can’t run this ship without 
me, and I’m going to stay here. Stay right 
here until we ’ve found that gold. Do you get 
that? Storm or no storm. It takes more than 
a tow-headed Scowegian to throw a scare into 
me,” and he trailed off into a string of invective 
so vile that not even the mild-tempered Swede 
would endure it. 

With an inarticulate roar the Swede jumped 
on Nick and before resistance was possible en¬ 
veloped him in his powerful grasp and tossed 
him over the side. “Stay, then, damn you. I 
ban had too much o’ your lip.” Then, his 
temper cooling, he picked up a coil of rope and 
heaved the end after Callaway. “I get him up 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 263 

again, Skipper,” he said apologetically; “a 
leedle swim do him good.” 

But Nick, coming to the surface, conceived an¬ 
other plan. If he could not induce Somers to 
remain in any other way, he would swim ashore 
and hold him by strategy until the wind changed. 
Disregarding the proffered line, he got the bear¬ 
ing of the island and swam lustily to the beach. 
Passing breathless through the breakers, he 
hauled himself up on dry land and sat down to 
await results. 

For an hour, two, three hours he waited, while 
the wind increased its force and threw the break¬ 
ing waves farther and farther up the beach. 
Nick felt a sense of power as the Greenwood , 
tugging and dipping at her anchor-chain, showed 
no sign of getting under way. He would show 
them who was cock of the quarter-deck. 

Finally he saw a rowboat lowered to the water 
and two men embark it. The boat drifted down 
and when a short distance beyond the line of 
breakers a man stood up and shouted through a 
megaphone: 

“Are you coming aboard, Nick? The skipper 


264 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

don’t think it’s safe to wait much longer.” 

“No,” shouted Nick, his voice barely carrying 
to the men, “I’m staying here.” 

Back the rowboat put, her oarsmen battling 
against the wind; but an hour later she returned. 
“The captain says,” the seaman shouted, “that 
he ’ll stay if you come aboard.” 

“Like fish he will,” thought Nick. “He ’ll 
get me aboard and then he ’ll sail away in spite 
of me.” Attempting to frame his thought in 
speech, the words were blown from his mouth, 
and he ended by shaking his head and walking 
up the beach. 

By now the wind had risen to almost twice its 
early morning force, and, beating on a lee shore, 
was making the position of the Greenwood pre¬ 
carious. But still the sun shone bright, filling 
Nick with the false hope that the weather would 
moderate. 

His belief that Somers would not dare to leave 
him in the lurch remained firm even after the 
rowboat had been lifted to its cradle and he saw 
men at work on the anchor-chain. But when, a 
moment later, a puff of blue smoke issued from 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 265 

* 

the Greenwood's exhaust, his assurance left him, 
and he ran down the beach and dived headlong 
through a breaking wave. He came up safe be¬ 
hind it, but ere he could get his breath another 
wave broke over him and forced him down. 
Again Nick struggled to the surface, again the 
smother of water seized him, and when next he 
cleared his eyes and caught his breath he was back 
in the shoal water of the beach. 

Awaiting a smooth moment, he tried again 
and then again, but each time the waves bore 
him back, and he could make no headway against 
them. At length, almost exhausted, he drew 
himself out of the water and watched the Green¬ 
wood sail away. Even then he thought that she 
would heave to on the leeward side of the island; 
and his hope only left him when the schooner, 
under double-reefed sails, bore away to eastward. 

Nick had played his last card in his desperate 
game for the boys’ treasure, and he had played 
it badly. Staking all, he had lost all; and at 
last he forced himself to face the facts. Starva¬ 
tion or death by thirst awaited him. Somers, 
mindful of his ship and his own skin, had left him 


266 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

to his fate. Terrified, frantic, Callaway roamed 
the beach, climbed through the bushes to one of 
the cairns and tied his undershirt to the pole, 
pleaded aloud with the storm to abate. But the 
clouds gathered and it blew the harder, and the 
self-marooned man, forced back by the mount¬ 
ing waves, was at length obliged to seek shelter 
on the lee side of the cay. 

There, his face huddled in his arms, he 
crouched while the clouds marched overhead, the 
wind tore at him, and the waves attempted to 
seek him out. In the night torrential rain came, 
and Nick knew that he should not die of thirst, 
but ever his stomach became emptier. 

The next day, the wind blowing with the full 
force of the hurricane and sweeping solid water 
horizontally across the lower parts of the island, 
he searched for food, and found nothing. A 
dead fish, cast up by the storm, he picked up and 
threw from him in disgust. But the third day, 
finding a small lobster, he killed and ate it raw, 
and bemoaned the fact that he had spurned the 
rotting fish. Yet by now his strength was al¬ 
most gone, and he could no longer keep his feet 



Nick had played his last card, and played it badly 



















































THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 267 

even in the lulls between the mighty gusts of 
wind. 

Morning of the fourth day found him delirious, 
unaware that in the night the wind had died 
away, permitting the mosquitos to rise from the 
mangroves and attack him. Near the cairn, 
above which his undershirt had whipped itself to 
tatters, he had found a depression in the rock 
whose store of rain-water was unspoiled by fly¬ 
ing spray, and thither in the evening he had 
dragged himself. What starvation and insects 
had started, the sun’s mid-day heat would finish, 
and Nick was marked for death. But his con¬ 
sciousness had already died. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


O N this very morning the Sea Bird, having 
safely ridden out the storm in the pro¬ 
tected basin of the railroad wharf in Nipe Bay, 
returned to San Domingo Cay. 

“Looks like the same old place,” said Jim 
brightly, as they approached their old anchorage. 
“Washed a bit by the storm perhaps, but just as 
lively as ever.” 

“There’s one little change,” said Tom. 
“Wouldn’t you say that was what’s left of a 
handkerchief flopping from the pole?” 

Smith looked carelessly toward the cairn. 
“I’d say that it’s funny how you can look at a 
thing day after day and never notice it until the 
sun strikes it just right.” 

“You don’t think,” Phil suggested, “that the 
Greenwood stayed here and got wrecked in the 
hurricane?” 

“No, I don’t think she didn’t. I do think, 

though, that if she did she’d ’a’ blown on the 

268 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 269 

island and that part of her would be there to 
tell the tale.” 

“Yes, that seems reasonable. Well, let’s go 
on up the reef and get the safe before the wind 
blows up again. I’m tired of wind, rain, and 
foreign parts, and I want to get back to the 
U.S.A.” 

So, without stopping at the anchorage, the 
yawl motored up along the ledge until she came 
to the location of the wreck. There was still a 
long ground-swell running, and the buoys were 
not in evidence as the Sea Bird came, her crew 
searching the bottom as they had first searched 
it. 

“This is about it,” said Smith, “but I swear I 
don’t see a thing.” 

“Was n’t it a little farther along?” suggested 
Jim. “You remember we passed a break in the 
ledge, then bore in to eastward, and then found 
it.” 

“Sure, I remember it,” said Smith, “whose 
temper was a shade cross-grained this morning, 
“and right here is where the wreck ought to be. 
Do you make it out?” 


270 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

t 

“Nope. Here’s the end of the second reef.” 

“Then, she’s gone, and our gold with her. 
Them rollers heaved her to the bottom of the 
sea.” 

Conviction settled as they searched farther, 
and Smith’s gloom deepened with it. But after 
he had roundly rated the Bahama sloop and the 
Greenwood for delaying them two days at the 
cost of tens of thousands a day, he concluded: 

“Howsomever, there’s no use of crying over 
condensed milk. We got part of it, and let’s 
be going home.” 

But not yet could they bring themselves to 
leave the spot. Up and down they cruised, al¬ 
ways peering over the side, still a little hopeful 
that the wreck had been lifted to the other side 
of the ledge, borne up by the mighty force of 
the swells. 

At length, however, the search ended. Said 
Tom, who had been quietly mulling something 
over in his mind, “Shall we put back to the an¬ 
chorage before going on?” 

“I don’t see why,” Smith replied. “There’s 
nothing to take us there.” Disappointment, 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 271 

added to the close confinement of small-boat 
cruising, had made him easily irritated. 

“Well, there’s no wind, for one thing. And 
then, I ’ve got a sort of hunch that the rag on 
that pole means a castaway from the schooner. 
I’m sure I never saw it there before.” 

“I would n’t go a foot out of my way to rescue 
the whole crew of ’em, but as I keep telling you 
I ain’t the boss here.” 

“As a matter of fact,” replied Tom, “I was 
speaking to Phil. What do you say, Skipper?” 

Phil compromised. “I don’t suppose there’s 
any one on the island, but it won’t take long to 
find out, so we might as well stop there.” 

Hence it was that Tom, who had suffered 
torture at the hands of Nick, brought about 
his rescue. 

An hour later, when Jim and Tom brought 
the unconscious man aboard, hot with fever, his 
body twitching convulsively, his face enormously 
swollen with mosquito-bites, Smith refused to 
admit surprise. 

“I might ’a’ known it,” he declared. “You 
can’t kill that kind. Give him rum, quinine, and 


272 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

crackers soaked in hot canned milk, and the first 
thing you know he ’ll come to and be as mean 
as ever.” 

The yawl lay at anchor that day while Tom 
worked over the patient, frequently sponging 
his body, fanning him, and at intervals forcing 
him to swallow small quantities of liquid food. 
That night Tom made up a bunk for himself on 
the cabin floor, and awoke in the morning to find 
the sick man conscious. 

“Think you’ll make the grade all right?” 
asked Tom kindly, parting the mosquito-bar and 
intercepting the wandering gaze of the patient. 

“Huh,” Nick replied, his bravado immediately 
returning. “I kin lick my weight in wildcats al¬ 
ready.” 

“That’s good,” said Tom soothingly. “Then 
you don’t mind if we get under way to-day and 
make for Miami?” 

“Where are we now?” 

“At the cay. We found you ashore yester¬ 
day, half dead, and—” 

“I know all about that, and I’m obliged to 
you. Are n’t you going to look for that gold?” 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 273 

Smith, not yet arisen, here interrupted 
sleepily. “What is it the feller says,” he asked, 
“about the ruling passion strong in death?” 

But Tom answered Nick’s question without 
rancor: “No, the hurricane washed the wreck 
off the ledge, and she’s gone to the bottom, gold 
and all. How did you come to be on the cay?” 

“Oh, them pikers on the Greenwood jumped 
on me, the whole pack of ’em, and threw me 
overboard. Did all the gold go down with the 
wreck?” 

“Here,” said Tom, hurriedly, “you’ve talked 
too much already for a sick man. Can you man¬ 
age some oatmeal for breakfast?” 

“I kin manage anything. I ’ll be standing 
watches to-morrer.” 

Although Nick vastly overestimated his recu¬ 
perative powers and had to keep to his bunk 
for the succeeding two days, the effect of his 
defiant attitude was to kill any vestige of sym¬ 
pathy that the boys had for him. Smith had 
none, and admitted it freely. Nevertheless, as 
the Sea Bird, sailing free toward the Old Ba¬ 
hama Channel, the trade-winds at last behind 


274 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

her, increased her distance from San Domingo 
Cay, the crew did their best to make the sick man 
comfortable. He was shifted as need arose 
from weather to lee bunk, and his meals were 
given him regularly and in increasing quantity 
as his strength returned. 

Even without the presence of Nick, these 
would have been trying days. Although the 
Stevensons had cabled their father from Cuba, 
informing him of their survival of the hurricane, 
they had had no word from home for weeks, and 
with each passing minute their desire to reach 
Miami and get in touch by mail increased. 
Moreover, with the end of their cruise so close 
in sight, they experienced a premonition of evil 
that is common among those who have endured 
risks and come through unscathed. They felt 
that their luck had been stretched almost to the 
breaking-point, and viewed each squall or other 
change in weather with misgivings. It was a 
case of nerves, as they acknowledged to them¬ 
selves, but none the less disturbing because they 
were able to analyze the cause of their apprehen¬ 


sion. 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 275 

Smith, when the boys’ nervousness became 
known to him, was mercilessly scornful. “Well, 
I declare,” he said. “Your old man certainly 
would be pleased to know that his sons are scared 
at a capful of wind or a bolt of lightning. To 
save your faces I won’t say a word to him about 
it when I see him. The Lord only knows what 
you’d do if we sighted a water-spout.” 

Where words of sympathy were sought, this 
bluff ungraciousness made the matter worse. 
Smith had, indeed, become something of a prob¬ 
lem ever since the finding of the gold ingots, or 
afc least since the arrival at the cay of the Ba- 
haman whisky-runner. And to cap his occa¬ 
sional surliness, he had, during their stay in Cuba, 
supplied himself with several bottles of Baccardi 
rum, from which he helped himself with growing 
frequency. 

Once when Tom went below to call Smith for 
his night watch, he found the man mumbling in 
his sleep and rolling restlessly. The muffled 
words, “Now in Havana, that twenty-five thou¬ 
sand bucks—” came to Tom’s ears as he leaned 
over to wake him. 


276 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

When Smith followed Tom to the deck to re¬ 
lieve the watch, Tom told him what he had heard. 
In the light of the deck-lantern Smith started 
visibly. 

“Did I say that?” he asked, recovering him¬ 
self. “It would n’t do for Callaway to overhear 
any talk about the treasure.” 

“He was asleep, sound enough,” Tom reas¬ 
sured him. “But we’ve got to be awfully care¬ 
ful of what we say.” 

The necessity for keeping quiet about the gold 
stored beneath the cabin floor-boards—the “sam¬ 
ple” bar had joined its fellows there before 
Nick’s arrival on board—was the culminating 
annoyance of those already enumerated. The 
entire crew of the yawl would be glad when the 
trip ended and Nick was put ashore. 

On the third day of the run the Gulf Stream 
was entered, and the yawl, changing course from 
west to north, again encountered foul wind. 
The old business of sailing three miles to make 
good one was resumed, and the stream, flowing 
counter to the wind, so roughened the sea that 
Nick was hard put to it to remain in his bunk. 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 277 

In fact, feeling his strength returning to him, he 
found the deck, spray-splashed though it was, 
preferable to the jumping, stuffy cabin. All of 
that day he crouched in the cockpit in borrowed 
oilers, and when night fell some of the natural 
ruddiness of his complexion had returned to him 
and he was commencing to feel himself—his ill- 
natured, domineering self—again. 

When, finally, the tall apartment-hotel and 
the amusement-park windmill that rise surpris¬ 
ingly from the flat shore of Miami Beach came 
into view, Nick was entirely up to form. It was 
toward the close of the fourth day, and the ques¬ 
tion of landing their unwelcome guest and letting 
him seek hotel accommodations for the night was 
uppermost in Tom’s mind. 

“Got any money on you, Nick?” he asked. 

“Money? Of course I got money. Do you 
want me to pay for this passage?” 

“Not at all. I was thinking of your putting 
up for the night when you get ashore.” 

“Well, you don’t have to worry about Nick 
Callaway. Put him ashore, and he ’ll put him¬ 
self up.” 


278 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

Tom wasted no more words on him. The yawl 
was now entering the dredged cut, and with 
mounting pleasure he and his companions 
watched the sights ashore. The Havana ferry, 
lying at her summer mooring, the trolleys and 
motor-cars speeding along the boulevard that 
connects Miami with the beach, the tall buildings 
of the thriving city ahead, all had their interest 
and elicited comment. Smith threw off his 
taciturnity and exclaimed, 

“By snum, fellers, we forgot to stop at the 
mail-buoy on the way in. That was all-fired 
careless of me.” He glanced sidewise at the 
boys, his eyes twinkling, and they, suspecting a 
catch, were about to ply him with the necessary 
questions when Nick cut in: 

“Aw, that chestnut. It was old when Paul 
Jones put to sea.” 

His remark was as effective as a nail thrust 
through a pneumatic tire. The humor died 
from Smith’s eyes and conversation fell flat. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


A FEW minutes later, when the Sea Bird 
came to anchor off the Biscayne Yacht- 
Club, Smith savagely whipped the lashings off 
the dinghy and launched it in silence. Being 
more than tired of Nick’s continued insolence, 
he said: 

“I ’ll row this young beast ashore myself so’s 
to see that he don’t bite no holes in the thwarts. 
If ever a man deserved a beating, he does. And, 
by Godfrey, if he sticks around here till he gets 
his health back he ’ll get it. Get in the boat, 
you.” 

Nick, for once silent, dropped into the boat; 
but as Smith started rowing ashore he turned 
and called: 

“I want to say again, boys, that I’m obliged 

to you for picking me up. If you had n’t come 

along I might ’a’ been in a bad way.” 

It was characteristic of the man that he could 

279 


280 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

not give ungrudging thanks to the boys who had 
saved his life; and it was characteristic of Jim 
to add in a chorus of good-byes: 

“Don’t mention it. We didn’t do anything 
we ’re proud of.” 

At the landing-stage Callaway made off with¬ 
out a word of farewell for Smith, and the old 
sailor, resting for a moment on his oars, watched 
him disappear around the club-house with 
mingled loathing and relief pictured in his face. 

As he waited, the club caretaker appeared on 
the porch and called, “Are you the yawl Sea 
Birdr 

“Yes-siree. Any objection to us laying here 
a few days?” 

“None at all. In fact”—the man walked 
along the wharf and leaned on the railing di¬ 
rectly above Smith—“I ’ve been told by the com¬ 
modore to extend to you the courtesies of the 
club. Mr. Stevenson is here in town and—” 

“Stevenson in town?” interrupted Smith. 
“What’s he here for?” 

“That I don’t know. He told me to tell you 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 281 

that he’s stopping at the H-Hotel and that 

you ’re to call him up at once.” 

“Well, I ’ll be bio wed,” exclaimed Smith, and 
rowed quickly through the gathering dusk to 
the yawl. 

“Your old man’s here, Phil,” he shouted, 
“and you ’re to call him up at the hotel.” 

Instantly the yawl was in a flurry of activity. 
Amid exclamations of delight and wonder, Phil 
replaced Smith in the dinghy and rowed ashore 
to telephone. While he was gone a squall of 
white clothes hit the cabin, accompanied by a 
profuse spray of soapy water as the crew washed 

i • 

up. 

Returning in a few minutes with the news that 
his father wanted them to come to the hotel at 
once for a grand banquet and talk, Phil took his 
turn at the wash-basin, and in a few minutes all 
hands were ready for shore. 

“How about the gold?” asked Phil. “Gosh, 
I’m glad Callaway’s gone, and we can talk 
about it again. Shall we take it along?” 

“It’s pretty heavy, the whole of it,” Smith 



282 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

replied. “What do you say to taking a bar for 
proof?” 

“Suits me,” said Phil, lifting the floor-board 
and removing an ingot from the pile. Then, 
stamping the board back in place again, he 
added: 

“I ’ll lock up the cabin, and, anyway, the 
yawl’s absolutely safe lying here off the club¬ 
house.” 

“Sure,” said Jim, who with Tom, was sitting 
in the cockpit fanning a cloud of mosquitos from 
his head. “Let’s go. These mosquitos don’t 
wait until a man’s decently asleep before start¬ 
ing to eat him up.” 

A few seconds later, Phil drew the cabin hatch 
shut behind him and snapped the padlock, and 
the four embarked in the rowboat. Arrived at 
the hotel, they found Mr. Stevenson in his most 
boyish mood and were received by him in a gale 
of enthusiam. 

“Well, I am glad to see you,” he declared, try¬ 
ing to shake hands with all of them at once. 
“Come right up to my rooms, where the table is 
already set for the finest meal a prodigal ever 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 283 

had. What luck? I’ve been waiting three 
days for you, coming here shortly after I re¬ 
ceived your cable.” 

“Not so fast. Dad,” Phil pleaded. “What’s 
the news at home? Mother all right?” 

“Yes, and, while I think of it, she made me 
promise to ask you if you have done your sum¬ 
mer reading?” 

“Summer reading!” Jim groaned, and his 
brother and Tom groaned with him. “I’d 
forgotten all about college.” 

“Then forget it again for the present. Come 
with me now and tell me the news.” 

So the boys followed Mr. Stevenson to his 
rooms, where behind closed doors Phil produced 
the gold bar, handed it to his father, and said, 
“What ’ll you give for that?” 

His father’s eyes snapped with astonishment. 
“So you actually found gold!” he exclaimed. 
“How many of these did you pick up?” 

“Twenty-four, Dad,” said Jim. “Quick, how 
much are they worth?” 

“Let me see. Gold is twenty dollars an 
ounce, Troy. That’s about three hundred dol- 


284 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

lars a pound avoirdupois, and this bar weighs, I 
should say, four pounds. One thousand two 
hundred a bar, and you say you have twenty- 
four. That’s more than seven thousand dollars 
apiece, and not at all bad. But where’s the 
rest of the two hundred thousand?” 

There came a knock at the door and the gold 
was put out of sight. Waiters appeared with 
loaded trays, the five sat down, and over the meal 
the boys took up the story, beginning with the re¬ 
cent storm and working backward, constantly 
breaking in on one another as each thought 
of some point that had not been sufficiently em¬ 
phasized by the others. The experiences of 
Tom aboard the Greenwood were related by 
him, and the prowess of Smith with Blue Bessy 
was not understated by his admiring friends. 

If there had of late been a slight cloud cast 
over, the friendliness of their relations with 
Smith, it was forgotten now; but Smith himself 
contributed little to the conversation. He 
seemed, as he had seemed many times in recent 
days, to have something weighing on his mind, 
and, although he responded readily when some 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 285 

one turned to him for corroboration of a detail, 
he kept silence for the most part. 

The meal which was late in beginning—Mr. 
Stevenson admitted he had to subsidize the chef 
liberally to persuade him to remain in the kitchen 
at all—was long in the hilarious, talkative eating, 
and by the time the coffee and ices appeared it 
was well past ten-thirty. 

“Well,” said Mr. Stevenson finally, “consid¬ 
ering that I had my first dinner at six o’clock, I 
think I’ve done pretty well with this one. I 
suggest now that we get a car and take a little 
spin to aid digestion before bedtime. Then you 
will all stay here with me—I shall engage extra 
rooms—and in the morning we ’ll see what can 
be done about converting that gold into ready 
cash. Do you think anybody could steal it 
where it is. Smith?” 

“Steal it?” The muscles of Smith’s face 
twitched convulsively. “No, I don’t think so. 
No, I dunno. I might go aboard and see if it’s 
all right. Yes, I ’ll do that; I’m not so keen 
about a ride, if you don’t mind.” 

“Just as you say,” replied Mr. Stevenson; and 


286 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

Smith, rising from the table, found his hat and 
departed. 

When he had gone Tom said: “Do you know, 
Mr. Stevenson, Smith’s been acting awfully 
queer these last few days. He bought a lot of 
rum in Cuba, and it seems to have taken hold of 
him.” 

“Yes,” said Jim. “Did you notice the way 
he’s been opening and shutting his hands, and 
how he jumped when you spoke to him? He’s 
just been aching to get back aboard and have a 
shot of that old Baccardi.” 

“A good many men of his type have been hard 
drinkers in their day,” was Mr. Stevenson’s 
observation. “But I should say that he will be 
all right when his present supply is exhausted. 
How many bottles has he left?” 

“Oh, two, I guess. He can ‘kill’ those to¬ 
night if he stays by the job. But, say, Phil, 
you forgot to give him the key.” 

“Here, Phil,” Tom broke in, as Phil, remem¬ 
bering, started for the door, “you and Jim stay 
with your father. I ’ll trot along after him, and 
then I 'll be back.” 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 287 

“Right,” said Mr. Stevenson. “We ’ll be in 
the car at the front door.” 

So Tom, taking the key, left the hotel and 
followed Smith leisurely to the club-house. On 
the way he inspected the lighted windows of the 
novelty venders, and scanned the faces of 
occasional strangers as they passed him under 
the street-lights, reveling in the sparkle and life 
of a city’s streets as one does who has been a 
long time away from civilization. Reaching the 
water-front a few minutes later, he was a little 
surprised to find the yawl’s tender on the 
landing-stage. 

Then he thought; “Smith must have found 
the mosquitos too hot for him in the cockpit. 
He’s in the club-house somewhere.” 

But a search of the empty premises failed to 
uncover Smith, and, wondering slightly,, Tom 
launched the dinghy and rowed out to the yawl. 
She swung gracefully around her anchor, un¬ 
lighted, untenanted, seemingly glad to be at 
rest in a well protected harbour. 

Tom climbed aboard and secured the rowboat. 
Standing on deck, his arm crooked over the 


288 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

boom, he looked toward the shore-lights and 
harked his mind back over the major events of 
the preceding two months. 

“Well,” he thought, “I didn’t advance the 
cause of art much, except for the map in the 
Greenwood*s cabin, but it’s been a good cruise, 
and we got at least part of the treasure. But 
I’m not sorry it’s finished. Those last five days 
with Callaway-” 

He pursed up his lips and whistled. “Golly!” 
he said aloud, “how I wanted to paste him this 
afternoon!” 

He roused himself, felt in his pocket for the 
cabin key, and stepped forward to insert it in 
the padlock. For a moment he fumbled in the 
darkness. Something w r as wrong. He could 
not find the lock. The hasp, too, was gone, and 
the hatch slid open to his touch. A swarm of 
mosquitos rose with the hot, close air. 

In a fever of excitement Tom dropped below, 
stepped into a hole where there should have been 
solid flooring, and fell forward on his face. In 
an instant he was on his feet, stumbling, groping 
for, the electric lantern. 



THE SEA BIRD S QUEST 289 

Its bright beam, directed on the deck, revealed 
the worst. The floor-board was lying on one 
side, and only the pigs of ballast remained in the 
bilge. The bars of precious metal had been 
stolen. 


CHAPTER XXV 


F LASHING his lamp around the cabin, 
Tom saw that Smith’s canvas sea-bag, in 
which he kept most of his possessions, was gone 
from its customary place at the foot of his bunk. 
In its stead lay two or three bulky articles of 
Smith’s clothing. Tom sat down weakly on the 
edge of the bunk. 

It seemed incredible. Smith was their friend, 
and he owned a quarter-interest in the treasure. 
Yet Tom recalled his proposal to leave the gold 
aboard the yawl when they went up town, his 
nervous demeanor at dinner, his abrupt depar¬ 
ture without the key, his recent drinking. 

Not pausing to close the cabin behind him, 
Tom jumped into the dinghy and rowed for the 
club landing. Dragging the boat out of water, 
he raced up the wharf and at a corner of the 
veranda collided with the caretaker. 

“Did you see him?” he asked. 

290 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 291 

“See who?” 

“A man with a heavy sea-bag over his shoul¬ 
der. A thief.” 

“Yes, but I did n’t know he was a thief. 
Thought he was one of you fellows in the dark.” 

“How long ago was it?” 

“Fifteen, maybe twenty-five minutes ago. I 
was going for a drink of limeade at the fruit- 
stand before turning in, and I did n’t think twice 
about it. He went yonder toward the oil-tanks.” 

“Thanks,” said Tom. “Maybe I can catch 

a. 

him.” And he tore northward along the water¬ 
front. Running madly at first with no thought 
but to overtake the thief, it soon occurred to 
Tom that he could not hope to find the fugitive 
along a street whose palms and bushes offered a 
hundred places of concealment. He stopped in 
his stride and put rapidly for the hotel. Mr. 
Stevenson, who had unlimited resources both of 
ingenuity and wealth, must be told at once of 
the theft. 

To Tom’s utter, disappointment, there was no 
car drawn up before the hotel. Rushing into 
the lobby, he hailed the sleepy night-clerk with: 


292 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

“Where’s Mr. Stevenson? I must see him at 
once.” 

The clerk replied, “He and his sons waited 
some minutes for you and then left word that 
you could pick them up at the club.” 

Tom mentally cursed his blindness, his absorp¬ 
tion in the chase which had, perhaps, permitted 
him to pass the car in the street. The need for 
haste still more imperative, he was starting on 
a run from the hotel when he heard the long- 
drawn whistle of a railroad train. 

“Say,” he demanded, turning back, “is there 
a train for Havana out of here pretty soon?” 

“Not till three-fifty if it’s on time. But 
there’s the midnight for Jax in ten minutes if 
that will do you any good. It’s ten of twelve 
now.” 

“Gosh,” said Tom, his idea that the thief might 
take the first train from Miami now becoming 
conviction. “How do you get to the station?” 

“Say, young feller. You may be a friend of 
Mr. Stevenson’s an’ all that, but I’m used to 
being spoken to like a human being. I dont 
get to the station.” 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 293 

“Oh, I’m very sorry. I’m in a terrible hurry. 
How do I get to the station?” 

“Why, you follow your nose, and if that don’t 
guide you, you go up there three blocks,” he 
pointed, “turn left, and run like the devil for five 
more; and if the train’s on time you just miss 
it.” 

Tom did not wait for the last bit of superflu¬ 
ous information. Like an arrow from the bow 
he darted from the hotel and along the street. 
“He said three blocks,” he repeated to himself, 
“and this is one—and now two—and now three.” 

Turning the corner, he saw ahead of him a tall, 
spare man, staggering under the burden of a 
heavy load. The street was dark, but the figure 
seemed familiar. The boy was on him like a 
flash, spinning him around, turning his face to 
a street-light. 

“I beg your pardon,” he cried, laughing de¬ 
spite his disappointment, and dashed on, leaving 
a middle-aged negro to collect himself and his 
burlap bagful of watermelons as best he could. 

He was still five blocks from the station and 
there was no taxi nor even a private car in sight 



294 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

to give him a lift. Along a virtually deserted 
street he ran, his breath heaving, his feet, clad 
in white canvas slippers, twinkling under the 
lights like the shining pistons of an engine. 
Four blocks, three, two, and the train was just 
pulling in. With his eyes glued to his goal he 
approached the last cross-street, when around 
the corner staggered a man, his head bent for¬ 
ward, a sea-bag over his shoulders, and bumped 
full tilt into Tom. 

Together they went to the sidewalk, and al¬ 
most together they arose, Tom puffing from his 
run, the man blowing from the exertion of carry¬ 
ing his load. Thank Heaven, it was not Smith, 
but Callaway! 

“Out o’ my way, kid. I’ve got that train to 
make.” 

“You ’ll never make it. Up with your dukes,” 
said Tom, unconsciously slipping into the ver¬ 
nacular that Nick would best understand. 

“Out of my way, you little shrimp, or I ’ll 
finish that job I started on the Greenwood” 

For answer, Tom swung, Nick parried, and 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 295 

there began the prettiest little scrimmage that 
had been staged in Miami’s streets for many a 
night. If he had been in the pink of perfection 
Nick might still have been the master of the boy, 
despite Tom’s recent practice; but even so, this 
was not the heaving, tilting cabin of the schooner, 
and Tom was fighting with a real purpose. 

At first he could not get past Nick’s guard, 
and, receiving a body blow that seemed to jar 
his ribs from their fastenings, he became more 
wary and used his foot-work to better advantage. 
Jumping in, jumping out, he suddenly saw an 
opening and planted a rocking blow to Nick’s 
jaw. The man went down, but was on his feet 
again, convinced that he had a battle on his hands. 

Lowering his head in defiance of fighting wis¬ 
dom, he rushed through Tom’s blows and seized 
the boy about the waist. But Tom found his 
kidneys with a savage punch and the clinch broke. 
Again the two sparred for an opening. Nick 
started a heavy blow for Tom’s head, but Tom 
ducked and countered with a left to the jaw, 
which, missing, struck the nose, instead, and 


296 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

brought blood. In Nick’s temporary bewilder¬ 
ment, another blow struck his jaw, and he was 
down again. 

“Get up and take your medicine,” shouted 
Tom, the fighting blood singing through his 
veins. 

But Nick did not get up. Writhing in pain, 
his arm behind him as if to rub his back, he 
looked up and said: “Take the gold, kid. I’m 
through.” 

Tom watched him suspiciously, and then, as 
the fallen man began to moan, he lowered his 
hands and relaxed his vigilance. On the instant 
Nick was up, a knife flashing in his hand. 

“Now, damn you,” he cried, lunging forward 
to strike, “this is finish.” 

But the treacherous thrust never landed. 
There was a bellow of rage from a hitherto un¬ 
observed third party to the fight, a glint of blued 
steel, and the knife went hurtling from Nick’s 
paralyzed hand. He recovered his balance, cast 
one glance at Smith, the intercepter, and fled to¬ 
ward the train. 

Smith put Blue Bessy back in her holster with 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 297 

the remark that she was bashful about speaking 
in cities, and he and Tom watched as Nick darted 
up to the station platform and hauled himself 
aboard the still standing train. 

“Exit Nick, as they say in plays,” Smith ob¬ 
served. “Say, boy, he almost got you that 
time.” 

“Oh, Smith,” cried Tom, “I don’t know how 
to thank you. And here only three minutes ago 
I thought that you might be the thief.” 

Smith put a protecting arm about the boy, 
who, all the spirit gone from him, leaned weakly 
against the corner lamp-post. “That's all 
right, son. You mean on account of what I 
said about the money in Havana?” 

“Yes. That and other things. I ’ll never 
forgive myself.” 

“There’s no call to. Let’s pick up this gold 
between us and get along to the hotel. I ’ll tell 
you all about it on the way.” 

But as they stooped over to lift the bag from 
the sidewalk where it had lain, fought over, but 
for the moment forgotten, the voice of the law 
spoke in their ears. 


298 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

“What’s all this, fighting in the city streets?” 

They looked upi to see a policeman standing 
over them. 

“Oh, that’s all right, officer,” said Tom, ris¬ 
ing. “We ’re not fighting.” 

“Somebody was. I seen you two blocks away. 
What’s in the bag?” 

“Just some private property. We ’re on our 
way now to the H-Hotel with it.” 

The policeman leaned over and lifted a corner 
of the bag. “Private property, eh? Hooch, 
I’d say.” 

“No, it’s* not that. You don’t have to be 
alarmed at all, officer. I—” 

“I don’t, eh? I ’ll show you who has to be 
alarmed,” and, bidding the two pick up the bag, 
the officer conducted them to the police station, 
turning a deaf ear to their protestations. 

Arrived there he was in the process of dump¬ 
ing the gold on the floor before the sergeant’s 
desk when the screen door burst open and in 
dashed Mr. Stevenson and his two sons. 

“Lieutenant,” he began, “I want to report a 
theft—” But, catching sight of Tom, Smith, 



THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 299 

and the pile of gold bars, he exclaimed, “Oh, 
Tom, you caught him, did you?” 

Tom, instantly aware that Mr. Stevenson had, 
like himself, suspected Smith, said rapidly: 
“No, sir. Callaway got away and jumped 
aboard the train for Jacksonville.” 

“Here,” broke in the desk-sergeant, “who are 
you, and what’s all this about?” 

“I’m Philip Spencer Stevenson of New York, 
president of the Great North American Copper 
Company.” The speaker tossed a card and let¬ 
ters on the desk. “And these are my two sons 
and their friends. Everything is absolutely all 
right.” 

The Stevenson name was one to conjure with, 
the Stevenson face was known to all readers of 
the daily papers, and the sergeant accepted his 
identity without question. 

“Is that copper you’ve got there, Mr. Steven¬ 
son?” he asked. 

The other laughed. “Not exactly copper. 
But it’s littering up your floor, and if you don’t 
mind we ’ll put it back in the bag and go to my 
hotel. The car is outside.” 


300 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

By this time, Mr. Stevenson and his two sons, 
having absorbed the significance of Tom’s re¬ 
mark, had resumed their faith in Smith. When, 
a few minutes later, the five made themselves 
comfortable in Mr. Stevenson’s living-room, 
there were all the indications present of an ex¬ 
ceedingly happy family party. 

When Tom’s story had been told, and it had 
been explained by the brothers that they, like 
Smith and then Tom, had discovered the theft 
and with their, father had rushed to the police 
station, Phil introduced a piece of real news. 

“Say, Tom,” he said, “who do you suppose 
ran into us while we were waiting for you in the 
car?” 

“You’ve got me.” 

“Why, Magruder, of the sub-chaser. He 
picked up the Greenwood off Cape Canaveral, 
loaded to the guards with rum, and he was 
mighty interested to hear that Callaway is in 
Florida. Said he was going to notify the police 
here and all along the coast to be on the lookout 
for him.” 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 301 

“Well,” said Tom, “that settles his hash.” 
And Jim added, “Peace be to his ashes.” 

Said Mr. Stevenson, “Now boys, and 
Smithers, what do you plan to do with your 
hard-won gold?” 

“I ’ll tell you about me, sir,” said Smith, “and 
I want to explain something first. One night 
on the last run the boys heard me say some¬ 
thing in my sleep about spending money in 
Havana, and I don’t blame ’em for thinking 
that I was making for to run away with all the 
treasure. But it was this way: 

“About ten years ago I took a chanct on the 
lottery in Havana, and won the capital prize of 
twenty-five thousand dollars. I had my mind all 
made up to buy a little place in Winter Harbor, 
down in Maine, and run a boat-livery, with sail¬ 
boats for the summer people, when I started 
drinking and blew in the whole of it. 

“This time I made up my mind again that 
I’d settle down, but, buying some rum in Cuba, 
the old craving got hold of me, and for the last 
week I’ve been fighting with myself, telling my- 


302 THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 

self what a fool I was the last time I had more 
than fifteen dollars to onc’t, making myself be¬ 
have. It got on my nerves and I even dreamt 
about it, but all the time I was hitting the 
bottle. I never thought to steal the boys’ share, 
but I was fighting the temptation to light out to 
Havana for a grand spree of my own. That’s 
all there is to it, so help me Moses.” 

Mr. Stevenson rose from his chair and laid a 
hand on the other man’s shoulder. “I believe 
in you implicitly, Smithers, and if you want me 
to I’m going to give you a hand establishing 
your boat-livery down east. 

“Boys, do you remember that honorary society 
you proposed to me in Norfolk, the Society of 
Doting Fathers, I believe you called it?” 

“We sure do,” they said in chorus. “It was 
‘Sporting,’ Dad,” Phil added, “and you ’re still 
the only member of it.” 

“Well, call it what you will, that society is 
going to handle Smither’s money for him, and 
stand back of him with its own resources. If 
any of you want to invest your gold in his 


THE SEA BIRD’S QUEST 303 

fortunes and buy a whole flock of Sea Birds to 
expand his trade, the bids are open.” 

“I ’ll do it,” cried Phil, delighted with the idea. 
“You bet,” said Tom. 

“I ’ll pick out his engines for him,” Jim added, 
and the three burst into a cheer that was an¬ 
swered by a thumping shoe from the room above. 

“Then,” said Mr. Stevenson, “we ’ll vote that 
the Sea Bird's quest was an unqualified success. 

“And now,” he concluded, “I’m going to bed. 
I don’t thrive on excitement the way you young 
bloods do.” 















































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